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Matthew Arnold 

From the Watts portrait. Courtesy of the 
National Portrait Gallery 







Anno \A 

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ARNOLDS 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 
AND OTHER POEMS 


EDITED BY ; 

FLORENCE ALLEN CROCKER 

HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH 

LA SALLE-PERU-OGLESBY JUNIOR [ 

COLLEGE, ILLINOIS 

/ 

► 

Decorations by ► 

ALICE M. BEYER / \ 


s 



D. C. HEATH AND COMPANY 


BOSTON 

ATLANTA 



NEW YORK 
SAN FRANCISCO 
LONDON 


CHICAGO 

DALLAS 


c G P V 





HEATH’S GOLDEN KEY SERIES 

The following titles, among many others, are available 
or in preparation: 


ARNOLD S SOHRAB 


POETRY 

AND RTTSTUM AND 


OTHER POEMS 


S SHORTER POEMS 
RECENT POETRY 
AND O’KEEFE’S 


BROWNING 

french’s 

GUINDON 
POETRY 

milton’s shorter poems 
scott’s lady of the lake 
Tennyson’s idylls of the king 


JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL 

-53 


Cop^y 


% 


FICTION 

cooper’s LAST OF THE MOHICANS 
ELIOT’S SILAS MARNER 
eliot’s MILL ON THE FLOSS 3 

Hawthorne’s house of the seven gables 

TALES FROM HAWTHORNE 

dickens’s tale of two cities ( entire ) 

dickens’s tale of two cities {edited for rapid reading) 

scott’s ivanhoe 

SCOTT’S QUENTIN DURWARD 

WILLIAMS AND LIEBER’s PANORAMA OF THE SHORT 
STORY 

OTHER TITLES 

ADDISON AND STEELE’S SIR ROGER DE COVERLET 
PAPERS 

boswell’s life of Johnson ( selections) 
burke’s on conciliation 

PHILLIPS AND GEISLER’s GLIMPSES INTO THE WORLD 
OF SCIENCE 

lowell’s a certain condescension and democracy 
{with other essays on international good and bad will) 
macaulay’s Johnson 

FRENCH AND GODKIN’s OLD TESTAMENT NARRATIVES 

Shakespeare’s julius caesar 
Shakespeare’s midsummer night’s dream 

Copyright, 1929 

By D. C. Heath and Company 
2 e 9 

Printed in the United States of America 


PREFACE 


The editor has attempted to do for high school 
students on a small scale what Matthew Arnold 
himself did for the general public in his edition of 
Wordsworth’s poems, not only to select what repre¬ 
sents the highest excellence of the poet, but also to 
classify the poems in a way that may lead to a clear 
understanding of their poetic purpose. It is the 
editor’s hope that the intensive study of the twelve 
poems included here may lead ambitious students to 
read for themselves such masterpieces as Balder 
Dead and Empedocles on Etna which it was 
impossible to include in a limited edition. The ar¬ 
rangement is according to types in order that this 
short course in Arnold’s poetry may serve as an 
introduction to a later course in all of the types of 
English poetry. The emphasis is upon the dramatic 
in the narrative and upon the technique of verse 
form. Much of the classroom work is merely sug¬ 
gested that the student may be urged to find for 
himself examples of well-chosen figures of speech 
and felicitous verse effects. 

The introduction is not to be assigned for an 
opening lesson to be taken as an appetizer, that 
might have the disastrous effect of befuddling the 
brain of the student. Rather it should be given out 
in the parts related to the particular poems to be 
studied and with the corresponding questions for 
discussion. In a sense it is a key to the oral or writ- 
iii 






* 


# 


i 














INTRODUCTION 

MATTHEW ARNOLD, THE POET 

The facts of Arnold’s life may be read in any 
encyclopedia: “ Son of Doctor Thomas Arnold, 
born in Laleham, Middlesex County, December 24, 
1822 — died April 15, 1888.” What is interesting 
about the intervening facts can best be studied in 
connection with his works. The remarkable fact 
is that he could find inspiration to write poetry as 
well as prose, during the thirty-five years in which 
he was traveling around England, inspecting schools 
and correcting examination papers. When we also 
add that his real objective in life was to fight what 
he called “ British Philistinism ” or middle-class 
ignorance and stupidity, we find it all the more 
remarkable that he could write any poetry what¬ 
ever. 

The highest praise that may be given to Arnold 
is to apply his own standard of criticism to his 
verse. He suggests that there is “ no more useful 
help for discovering what poetry belongs to the 
class of the truly excellent than to have in one’s 
mind lines and expressions of the great masters 
and to apply these as a touchstone to other poetry.” 
That is the one great reason for learning by heart 
passages from the great classics, so that they may 
become a part of our literary fiber and may give 
us a standard by which we shall be able to recognize 
vii 


viii ARNOLD’S POEMS 

other great poetry and discard cheap and trite versi¬ 
fying or even second rate poetry. If we have in 
mind some of the great lines of Homer and Milton, 
we shall love such lines as the following from 
Sohrab and Rustum: 

As in the country on a morn in June 

When the dew glistens on the pearled ears 

A shiver runs through the deep corn for joy. 

Arnold has “ the accent of the great masters,” “ a 
hig’h seriousness,” “ a large, free, sound representa¬ 
tion of things.” In addition to that he has “ divine 
liquidness of diction ’ or a poetic choice of words, 
and fluidity of movement ” or ease of manner and 
treatment. There is a strain of the Celtic in his 
lighter poems, of a truly “natural magic.” But 
above all he was a sincere lover of Greek literature 
and has the simplicity, the austerity, and the re¬ 
straint of Greek poetry. Hence it should be our 
purpose to realize a deeper enjoyment of what is 
truly excellent in his poetry. 


SUBJECT MATTER OF THE NARRATIVE POEMS 

# What Matthew Arnold chose as the subject of 
his poetry ought to appeal to students, for all his 
life he was himself a student who was always find¬ 
ing fresh themes from his reading and putting them 
into terms of life. While his essays may weary 
some who are. less scholarly or critical of taste 
because of their rhetorical effects and repetition, 
his poetry will always have a fresh charm. It may 
well appeal more today than in the Victorian Age, 
for both in thought and freedom of style there is a 


THE NARRATIVE POEMS ix 

distinctly modern note. Although much of his 
poetry is sad, yet it is never a mere wail of regret 
or outburst of despair. It is a sadness strangely 
blended with beauty as in The Church of Brou or 
a quiet resignation as in Dover Beach. Although 
he laments the passing of the old religious faith, 
yet he ever finds joy in nature or hope in humanity. 
His message is courage to meet intellectual doubts, 
and self-reliance to meet life. His heroes are often 
youthful dreamers who are full of enthusiasm and 
high courage. 


“ SoHRAB AND RuSTTJM ” 

The particular poem most likely to appeal is 
Sohrah and Rustum, because it is a narrative 
oriental in theme and full of romantic ardor of 
feeling. The story is told directly with no weak 
sentimentality or moralizings. The pathos that 
lies in the situation is never at any point overdone. 
It should be read through for its dramatic unity 
before it is ever studied in part, for in a sense it 
resembles the great tragedies of Shakespeare. It 
has first its atmosphere of foreboding, then its start¬ 
ing point for the conflict that leads to the climax 
or determining moment, and lastly its descending 
action to the death of the hero. Its close has a ray 
of hope like Hamlet, of life going on just the same 
after the individual disaster. It may, therefore, be 
analyzed as follows: 

I. Introduction 

Sohrab spends a restless night (11. 1-40). 

II. Inciting force 

Sohrab tells Peran-Wisa his desire to fight in 


X 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


single combat to gain renown for his father s 
sake (11. 11-62). 

III. Ascending Action 

A. Peran-Wisa grants his request (11. 62-94). 

B. The herald of the Tartars announces to 
Ferood, the Persian leader, that Sohrab 
wishes to fight a Persian champion (11. 94- 
155). 

C. The challenge causes fear among the Persians 
(11. 155-186). 

D. Rustum is finally prevailed upon to accept 
the challenge (11. 186-260). 

E. Rustum prepares to fight in plain armor (11. 
260-290). 

F. Rustum seeing the youth of Sohrab, tries to 
dissuade him from fighting (11. 290-397). 

G. They fight with spears and with clubs, Rus¬ 
tum slipping and falling in the sand (11. 397- 
469). 

H. They make a second charge, a cloud of mist 
enveloping them (11. 469-513). 

IV. Climax 

Rustum cries out his own name at which Sohrab 
recoils and receives a fatal blow (11. 513-520). 

V. Concluding Crisis 

Rustum is convinced by the seal that Sohrab is 
his son (11. 520-693). 

VI. Descending Action 

A. Rustum gives way to his grief but is com¬ 
forted by Sohrab (11. 693-770). 

B. Sohrab makes his dying request and proph¬ 
esies Rustum’s end (11. 770-837). 

VII. Catastrophe 

Sohrab dies and Rustum stays mourning over 
his body till night comes (11. 837-874). 

VIII. Epilogue 

“ The majestic river floated on,” symbolizing life 
and eternity. 


THE NARRATIVE POEMS 


xi 


“ The Forsaken Merman ” 

The Forsaken Merman, on the other hand, is a 
delicate elusive story in verse that must be felt 
rather than analyzed. The pathos is of a higher 
tone and the story merely presented at its climactic 
moment, the return of the Merman to the sea. The 
problem concerns the heroine Margaret, who has 
lost her soul by being united with the sea monster. 
She cannot return even to her children after she 
has once felt the inspiration of religion in the little 
church on the hill. The theme of a mortal married 
to a lower or higher god has often been treated in 
Greek mythology and in later literature. One of 
the most interesting poems on the subject is that 
of Marpessa by Stephen Phillips. The beauty of 
the poem by Arnold lies in the changing effects 
of the rhyme and rhythm to give the idea of the sea. 


“ Tristram and Isetjlt ” 

Although Tristram and Iseult is one of the many 
versions of the Arthurian love story made famous 
by opera, yet there is a mark of individuality in 
Arnold’s, perhaps not found elsewhere. The story 
is of the knight of King Arthur’s Court who fell in 
love with Iseult of Ireland but who later married 
Iseult of Brittany. Iseult of Ireland comes back to 
Tristram in his fevered dream as she held the golden 
goblet for him to taste the magic drink that made 
them “ for ever love each other ” “ with a wild 
delicious pain.” For the other, Iseult of Brittany 
that he has married, he seems to feel a tender pity 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


xii 

and a gentle affection. It is to his children that 
he turns in thought when he says to Iseult: 

Where do the children sleep? Kiss them for me! 
Poor child, thou art almost as pale as I. 

This comes from nursing long and watching late. 

The passage given in this volume follows at this 
point to the end of Part I. The second part of the 
poem, a dialogue between Tristram and Iseult of 
Ireland in rhymed stanzas, is disappointing in com¬ 
parison with that great poem Tristram by the 
modern poet, Edward Arlington Robinson. The 
third part takes up the story the year after the death 
of Tristram and shows Iseult compensating her 
loss of Tristram by a loving companionship with 
her two children. Later on in the poem Arnold 
gives his philosophy of life that it is not suffering 
that 

Shuts up eye and ear 
To all that has delighted. 

but passion — 

Call it ambition or remorse or love,— 

This too can change us wholly and make seem 
All which we did before, shadow and dream. 


TYPES 

It is the purpose of this volume to introduce 
students to two types of Arnold’s poetry, the nar¬ 
rative poem and the lyric. The Greek drama is in 
a sense represented in the fragment from The 
Strayed Reveller, but since only the last speech is 
given, it will be classified as a lyric. The lyrics 
are subdivided into sonnets, descriptive lyrics, and 



TYPES 


xiii 

elegies. In the narrative poems and in the elegy, 
Matthew Arnold excels. 

Narrative Poems 

Sohrab and Rustum may well be classified as a 
minor epic or a literary epic, for it is an episode 
from the early history of a great race, and it pos¬ 
sesses the majesty of verse comparable with the 
great epics. The action is on a large scale, for we 
see not only the two heroes, but also two whole 
armies, breathlessly awaiting the outcome of the 
combat. In the struggle, the passion of love of 
father and son is closely linked with desire for fame 
and also with the oriental idea of fate. It tells of 
the world when it was young and portrays the 
customs and ideals of the whole heroic age. The 
blank verse is the full solemn music that resembles 
Paradise Lost in its wavelike cadences. 

The figures of speech are again on the epic level, 
— the long and detailed Homeric similes as the 
following: 

As when some hunter in the spring hath found 
A breeding eagle sitting on her nest — 

(Seventeen lines follow in the development of the 
unfamiliar object compared. Then the figure is 
completed.) 

So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood 
Over his dying son, and knew him not. 

The Forsaken Merman contains so small a 
thread of story that it is a question whether it 
should not be considered more as a lyric than a 
narrative poem. The metrical tale of Tristram and 
Iseult is told partly in dialogue or drama form. 


xiv ARNOLD’S POEMS 

An interesting comparative study might be made 
with Tennyson’s minor epic, in the Idylls of the 
King or with the modern version, Edwin Arlington 
Robinson’s Tristram. 


Sonnets 

Although Arnold wrote a sonnet on Shakespeare, 
he did not follow the rhyme scheme of Shake¬ 
speare but adopted a variation from Petrarch, the 
Italian sonnet writer. However, as if he would 
catch the lilt of Shakespeare’s sonnets, he has the 
two closing lines rhyme. The scheme is abba, acca, 
dedegg. The Austerity of Poetry is abba, abba, 
cdecde. It is well to study the rising of thought or 
emotion in the octave, the first eight lines, and the 
falling emotion in the sestet or last six lines. The 
beauty of a sonnet is the perfect unity of thought 
compact in the fourteen lines. It can best be ap¬ 
preciated if one tries to express the whole poem in 
a short sentence. 


Greek Chorus 

Since Arnold loved Greek poetry, he was fond of 
adopting the irregular verse form of the Greek 
chorus, which resembles the ode or the secular song. 
Although it has no rhyme and no regular rhythm, 
yet the short lines give such a poem as The 
Strayed Reveller a light charming effect. 

Descriptive Lyrics 

The Greek form is still evident in Dover Beach, 
which is a descriptive lyric. Although the first part 
of The Church of Brou is according to regular rules 


TONE COLOR 


xv 


for lyric verse, the most successful part is “ The 
Tomb,” which is in heroic couplets or iambic pen¬ 
tameter with every two lines rhyming. However, 
the cadences are so long and varied that it may well 
be classified as one of the freest and most perfect 
examples of it. The most typically lyric in form is 
Lines Written in Kensington Gardens, the tetram¬ 
eter four-line stanza. 


Elegies 

Thyrsis is the most perfect example of a pastoral 
elegy by Arnold, but since The Scholar-Gipsy is a 
companion poem to it, it may be studied in place 
of the more difficult poem. It serves better for 
a pastoral model than Milton’s Lycidas. If the 
pastoral is an ingrafted taste in England, it is even 
more unnatural in America, where there are no 
sheep grazing on the hillsides with picturesque 
shepherds and shepherdesses. But in this poem 
there is almost no artificiality in the pastoral man¬ 
ner ; the descriptions reveal merely a pleasing rural 
scene with a freedom-loving hero. 

TONE COLOR 

Since one of the chief beauties of Arnold’s verse 
is the tone color or the adapting of the sound to 
the sense, it is well to study his method of pro¬ 
ducing it. The more obvious methods have been 
suggested under the heading “ Types,” as the fol¬ 
lowing: choice of meter, variation in the regular 
rhythm and in the position of the pauses, especially 
of the blank verse. Besides these he uses much 
alliteration as 


XVI 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Through the wave and through the swell 
The far off sound of a silver bell. 

Even more pleasing in effect is a choice of sounds, 
' such as the liquid consonants l, m, n, r, for repose 
with a sad melancholy strain as, 

A long, long sigh 

For the cold strange eyes of a little mermaid 
And the gleam of her golden hair. 

On the other hand, the abrupt consonants b, k, hard 
c, and t, suggest harshness: 

The two hosts heard the cry and quaked for fear 
And Oxus curdled as it crossed the stream. 

The long vowels suggest an effect similar to that 
of the liquid consonants, a slowness or calmness, as, 

Down, down, down 

Down into the depths of the sea. 

The long vowels combined with alliterations give 
an even more striking effect, 

Now the great wind shoreward blow 
Now the solemn tide seaward blow. 

Contrasted with this are the short vowels to sug¬ 
gest swiftness or lightness, 

Hist, he wakes 

I lured him not hither, Ulysses. 

Sometimes also the sound of the word itself suggests 
the thought as 

The spear 

Hissed and went quivering down into the sand. 


or, 


It fluttered and failed of breath. 


TONE COLOR 


xvu 


and lastly there is much repetition, especially in 
the use of refrain, as, 

Come children, let us away! 

which occurs in slightly varying form in almost 
every stanza of The Forsaken Merman. To go 
into more minute study of versification may be 
like tearing the petals of a flower to pieces till its 
beauty is lost. 


























































SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


An Episode 

And the first grey of morning fill’d the east, 

And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. 

But all the Tartar camp along the stream 

Was hush’d, and still the men were plunged in sleep; 

Sohrab alone, he slept not; all night long 
He had lain wakeful, tossing on his bed; 

But when the grey dawn stole into his tent, 

He rose, and clad himself, and girt his sword, 

And took his horseman’s cloak, and left his tent, 

And went abroad into the cold wet fog, 10 

Through the dim camp to Peran-Wisa’s tent. 

Through the black Tartar tents he pass’d, which stood 
Clustering like bee-hives on the low flat strand 
Of Oxus, where the summer-floods o’erflow 
When the sun melts the snows in high Pamere; 

Through the black tents he pass’d, o’er that low strand, 

And to a hillock came, a little back 

From the stream’s brink — the spot where first a boat. 

Crossing the stream in summer, scrapes the land. 

The men of former times had crown’d the top 20 

With a clay fort; but that was fall’n, and now 
The Tartars built there Peran-Wisa’s tent, 

A dome of laths, and o’er it felts were spread. 

And Sohrab came there, and went in, and stood 
Upon the thick piled carpets in the tent, 

And found the old man sleeping on his bed 
Of rugs and felts, and near him lay his arms. 

And Peran-Wisa heard him, though the step 
Was dull’d; for he slept light, an old man’s sleep; 

1 


2 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


And he rose quickly on one arm, and said: — 

“ Who art thou? for it is not yet clear dawn. 
Speak! is there news, or any night alarm? ” 

But Sohrab came to the bedside, and said: — 

“ Thou know’st me, Peran-Wisa! it is I. 

The sun is not yet risen, and the foe 
Sleep; but I sleep not; all night long I lie 
Tossing and wakeful, and I come to thee. 

For so did King Afrasiab bid me seek 
Thy counsel, and to heed thee as thy son, 

In Samarcand, before the army march’d; 

And I will tell thee what my heart desires. 

Thou know’st if, since from Ader-baijan first 
I came among the Tartars and bore arms, 

I have still served Afrasiab well, and shown, 

At my boy’s years, the courage of a man. 

This too thou know’st, that while I still bear on 
The conquering Tartar ensigns through the world, 
And beat the Persians back on every field, 

I seek one man, one man, and one alone — 

Rustum, my father; who I hoped should greet, 
Should one day greet, upon some well-fought field, 
His not unworthy, not inglorious son. 

So I long hoped, but him I never find. 

Come then, hear now, and grant me what I ask. 

Let the two armies rest to-day; but I 

Will challenge forth the bravest Persian lords 

To meet me, man to man; if I prevail, 

Rustum will surely hear it; if I fall — 

Old man, the dead need no one, claim no kin. 

Dim is the rumour of a common fight, 

Where host meets host, and many names are sunk; 
But of a single combat fame speaks clear.” 

He spoke; and Peran-Wisa took the hand 
Of the young man in his, and sigh’d, and said: — 

“ 0 Sohrab, an unquiet heart is thine! 

Canst thou not rest among the Tartar chiefs, 



After a Persian miniature in the British Museum. 








4 ARNOLD’S POEMS 

And share the battle’s common chance with us 
Who love thee, but must press for ever first, 

In single fight incurring single risk, 

To find a father thou hast never seen? 

That were far best, my son, to stay with us 
Unmurmuring; in our tents, while it is war, 

And when ’tis truce, then in Afrasiab’s towns. 

But, if this one desire indeed rules all, 

To seek out Rustum — seek him not through fight! 
Seek him in peace, and carry to his arms, 

0 Sohrab, carry an unwounded son! 

But far hence seek him, for he is not here. 

For now it is not as when I was young, 

When Rustum was in front of every fray; 

But now he keeps apart, and sits at home, 

In Seistan, with Zal, his father old. 

Whether that his own mighty strength at last 
Feels the abhorr’d approaches of old age, 

Or in some quarrel with the Persian King. 

There go! — Thou wilt not? Yet my heart forebodes 
Danger or death awaits thee on this field. 

Fain would I know thee safe and well, though lost 
To us; fain therefore send thee hence, in peace 
To seek thy father, not seek single fights 
In vain; —but who can keep the lion’s cub 
From ravening, and who govern Rustum’s son? 

Go, I will grant thee what thy heart desires.” 

So said he, and dropp’d Sohrab’s hand, and left 
His bed, and the warm rugs whereon he lay; 

And o’er his chilly limbs his woollen coat 
He pass’d, and tied his sandals on his feet, 

And threw a white cloak round him, and he took 
In his right hand a ruler’s staff, no sword; 

And on his head he set his sheep-skin cap, 

Black, glossy, curl’d, the fleece of Kara-Kul; 

And raised the curtain of his tent, and call’d 
His herald to his side, and went abroad. 


70 

80 

90 

100 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


5 


The sun by this had risen, and clear'd the fog 
From the broad Oxus and the glittering sands. 

And from their tents the Tartar horsemen filed 
Into the open plain; so Haman bade — 

Haman, who next to Peran-Wisa ruled 
The host, and still was in his lusty prime. 

From their black tents, long files of horse, they 

stream'd; 110 

As when some grey November morn the files, 

In marching order spread, of long-neck’d cranes 
Stream over Casbin and the southern slopes 
Of Elburz, from the Aralian estuaries, 

Or some frore Caspian reed-bed, southward bound 
For the warm Persian sea-board — so they stream'd. 

The Tartars of the Oxus, the King’s guard, 

First, with black sheep-skin caps and with long spears; 
Large men, large steeds; who from Bokhara come 
And Khiva, and ferment the milk of mares. 120 

Next, the more temperate Toorkmuns of the south, 

The Tukas, and the lances of Salore, 

And those from Attruck and the Caspian sands; 

Light men and on light steeds, who only drink 
The acrid milk of camels, and their wells. 

And then a swarm of wandering horse, who came 
From far, and a more doubtful service own'd; 

The Tartars of Ferghana, from the banks 

Of the Jaxartes, men with scanty beards 

And close-set skull-caps; and those wilder hordes 130 

Who roam o'er Kipchak and the northern waste, 

Kalmucks and unkempt Kuzzaks, tribes who stray 
Nearest the Pole, and wandering Kirghizzes, 

Who come on shaggy ponies from Pamere; 

These all filed out from camp into the plain. 

And on the other side the Persians form’d; — 

First a light cloud of horse, Tartars they seem’d, 

The Ilyats of Khorassan; and behind, 

The royal troops of Persia, horse and foot, 


6 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Marshall’d battalions bright in burnish’d steel. 

But Peran-Wisa with his herald came, 

Threading the Tartar squadrons to the front, 

And with his staff kept back the foremost ranks. 

And when Ferood, who led the Persians, saw 
That Peran-Wisa kept the Tartars back, 

He took his spear, and to the front he came, 

And check’d his ranks, and fix’d them where they stood. 
And the old Tartar came upon the sand 
Betwixt the silent hosts, and spake, and said: — 

“Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear! 

Let there be truce between the hosts to-day. 

But choose a champion from the Persian lords 
To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man.” 

As, in the country, on a morn in June, 

When the dew glistens on the pearled ears, 

A shiver runs through the deep corn for joy — 

So, when they heard what Peran-Wisa said, 

A thrill through all the Tartar squadrons ran 
Of pride and hope for Sohrab, whom they loved. 

But as a troop of pedlars, from Cabool, 

Cross underneath the Indian Caucasus, 

That vast sky-neighbouring mountain of milk snow; 
Crossing so high, that, as they mount, they pass 
Long flocks of travelling birds dead on the snow, 
Choked by the air, and scarce can they themselves 
Slake their parch’d throats with sugar’d mulberries — 
In single file they move, and stop their breath, 

For fear they should dislodge the o’erhanging snows — 
So the pale Persians held their breath with fear. 

And to Ferood his brother chiefs came up 
To counsel; Gudurz and Zoarrah came, 

And Feraburz, who ruled the Persian host 
Second, and was the uncle of the King; 

These came and counsell’d, and then Gudurz said: — 

“ Ferood, shame bids us take their challenge up, 

Yet champion have we none to match this youth. 


140 

150 

160 

170 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


7 


He has the wild stag’s foot, the lion’s heart. 

But Rustum came last night; aloof he sits 
And sullen, and has pitch’d his tents apart. 

Him will I seek, and carry to his ear 

The Tartar challenge, and this young man’s name. 

Haply he will forget his wrath, and fight. 

Stand forth the while, and take their challenge up.” 

So spake he; and Ferood stood forth and cried: — 

“ Old man, be it agreed as thou hast said! 

Let Sohrab arm, and we will find a man.” 

He spake: and Peran-Wisa turn’d, and strode 
Back through the opening squadrons to his tent. 

But through the anxious Persians Gudurz ran, 

And cross’d the camp which lay behind, and reach’d, 
Out on the sands beyond it, Rustum’s tents. 

Of scarlet cloth they were, and glittering gay, 

Just pitch’d; the high pavilion in the midst 
Was Rustum’s, and his men lay camp’d around. 

And Gudurz enter’d Rustum’s tent, and found 
Rustum; his morning meal was done, but still 
The table stood before him, charged with food — 

A side of roasted sheep, and cakes of bread, 

And dark green melons; and there Rustum sate 
Listless, and held a falcon on his wrist, 

And play’d with it; but Gudurz came and stood 
Before him; and he look’d, and saw him stand, 

And with a cry sprang up and dropp’d the bird, 

And greeted Gudurz with both hands, and said: — 
u Welcome! these eyes could see no better sight. 

What news? but sit down first, and eat and drink.” 

But Gudurz stood in the tent-door, and said: — 

“ Not now! a time will come to eat and drink, 

But not to-day; to-day has other needs. 

The armies are drawn out, and stand at gaze; 

For from the Tartars is a challenge brought 
To pick a champion from the Persian lords 
To fight their champion — and thou know’st his name — 


180 

190 

200 

210 


/ 


8 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Sohrab men call him, but his birth is hid. 

0 Rustum, like thy might is this young man’s! 

He has the wild stag’s foot, the lion’s heart; 

And he is young, and Iran’s chiefs are old, 

Or else too weak; and all eyes turn to thee. 

Come down and help us, Rustum, or we lose! ” 

He spoke; but Rustum answer’d with a smile: — 220 

“ Go to! if Iran’s chiefs are old, then I 
Am older; if the young are weak, the King 
Errs strangely; for the King, for Kai Khosroo, 

Himself is young, and honours younger men, 

And lets the aged moulder to their graves. 

Rustum he loves no more, but loves the young — 

The young may rise at Sohrab’s vaunts, not I. 

For what care I, though all speak Sohrab’s fame? 

For would that I myself had such a son, 

And not that one slight helpless girl I have — 230 

A son so famed, so brave, to send to war, 

And I to tarry with the snow-hair’d Zal, 

My father, whom the robber Afghans vex, 

And clip his borders short, and drive his herds, 

And he has none to guard his weak old age. 

There would I go, and hang my armour up, 

And with my great name fence that weak old man, 

And spend the goodly treasures I have got, 

And rest my age, and hear of Sohrab’s fame, 

And leave to death the hosts of thankless kings, 240 

And with these slaughterous hands draw sword no 
more.” 

He spoke, and smiled; and Gudurz made reply: — 

“ What then, 0 Rustum, will men say to this, 

When Sohrab dares our bravest forth, and seeks 
Thee most of all, and thou, whom most he seeks, 

Hidest thy face? Take heed lest men should say: 

Like some old miser, Rustum hoards his fame, 

And shuns to peril it with younger men.” 

And, greatly moved, then Rustum made reply: — 


\ 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


9 


“ 0 Gudurz, wherefore dost thou say such words ? 
Thou knowest better words than this to say. 

What is one more, one less, obscure or famed, 

Valiant or craven, young or old, to me? 

Are not they mortal, am not I myself? 

But who for men of nought would do great deeds? 
Come, thou shalt see how Rustum hoards his fame! 
But I will fight unknown, and in plain arms; 

Let not men say of Rustum, he was match’d 
In single fight with any mortal man.” 

He spoke, and frown’d; and Gudurz turn’d, and ran 
Back quickly through the camp in fear and joy — 
Fear at his wrath, but joy that Rustum came. 

But Rustum strode to his tent-door, and call’d 
His followers in, and bade them bring his arms, 

And clad himself in steel; the arms he chose 
Were plain, and on his shield was no device, 

Only his helm was rich, inlaid with gold, 

And, from the fluted spine atop, a plume 
Of horsehair waved, a scarlet horsehair plume. 

So arm’d, he issued forth; and Ruksh, his horse, 
Follow’d him like a faithful hound at heel — 

Ruksh, whose renown was noised through all the earth, 
The horse, whom Rustum on a foray once 
Did in Bokhara by the river find 
A colt beneath its dam, and drove him home, 

And rear’d him; a bright bay, with lofty crest, 

Dight with a saddle-cloth of broider’d green 
Crusted with gold, and on the ground were work’d 
All beasts of chase, all beasts which hunters know. 

So follow’d, Rustum left his tents, and cross’d 
The camp, and to the Persian host appear’d. 

And all the Persians knew him, and with shouts 
Hail’d; but the Tartars knew not who he was. 

And dear as the wet diver to the eyes 

Of his pale wife who waits and weeps on shore, 

By sandy Bahrein, in the Persian Gulf, 


250 

260 

270 

280 


10 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Plunging all day in the blue waves, at night, 

Having made up his tale of precious pearls, 

Rejoins her in their hut upon the sands — 

So dear to the pale Persians Rustum came. 

And Rustum to the Persian front advanced, 

And Sohrab arm’d in Hainan’s tent, and came. 

And as afield the reapers cut a swath 
Down through the middle of a rich man’s corn, 

And on each side are squares of standing corn, 

And in the midst a stubble, short and bare — 

So on each side were squares of men, with spears 
Bristling, and in the midst, the open sand. 

And Rustum came upon the sand, and cast 
His eyes toward the Tartar tents, and saw 
Sohrab come forth, and eyed him as he came. 

As some rich woman, on a winter’s morn, 

Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge 
Who with numb blacken’d fingers makes her fire — 

At cock-crow, on a starlit winter’s morn, 

When the frost flowers the whiten’d window-panes — 
And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts 
Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum eyed 
The unknown adventurous youth, who from afar 
Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth 
All the most valiant chiefs; long he perused 
His spirited air, and wonder’d who he was. 

For very young he seem’d, tenderly rear’d; 

Like some young cypress, tall, and dark, and straight, 
Which in a queen’s secluded garden throws 
Its slight dark shadow on the moonlit turf, 

By midnight, to a bubbling fountain’s sound — 

So slender Sohrab seem’d, so softly rear’d. 

And a deep pity enter’d Rustum’s soul 
As he beheld him coming; and he stood, 

And beckon’d to him with his hand, and said: — 

“ 0 thou young man, the air of Heaven is soft, 

And warm, and pleasant; but the grave is cold! 


290 

300 

310 

320 



KOHRA& ANB RWSTUM 


After a Persian miniature in the British Museum. According to some 
accounts the combatants were mounted. See page 66. 









12 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 

Heaven’s air is better than the cold dead grave. 

Behold me! I am vast, and clad in iron, 

And tried; and I have stood on many a field 
Of blood, and I have fought with many a foe —- 
Never was that field lost, or that foe saved. 

0 Sohrab, wherefore wilt thou rush on death? 

Be govern’d! quit the Tartar host, and come 
To Iran, and be as my son to me, 

And fight beneath my banner till I die! 

There are no youths in Iran brave as thou.” 

So he spake, mildly; Sohrab heard his voice, 

The mighty voice of Rustum, and he saw 
His giant figure planted on the sand, 

Sole, like some single tower, which a chief 
Hath builded on the waste in former years 
Against the robbers; and he saw that head, 

Streak’d with its first grey hairs; — hope filled his soul, 
And he ran forward and embraced his knees, 

And clasp’d his hand within his own, and said: — 

“ 0, by thy father’s head! by thine own soul! 

Art thou not Rustum? speak! art thou not he? ” 

But Rustum eyed askance the kneeling youth, 

And turn’d away, and spake to his own soul: — 

“ Ah me, I muse what this young fox may mean! 
False, wily, boastful, are these Tartar boys. 

For if I now confess this thing he asks, 

And hide it not, but say: Rustum is here! 

He will not yield indeed, nor quit our foes, 

But he will find some pretext not to fight, 

And praise my fame, and proffer courteous gifts 
A belt or sword perhaps, and go his way. 

And on a feast-tide, in Afrasiab’s hall, 

In Samarcand, he will arise and cry: 

‘ I challenged once, when the two armies camp’d 
Beside the Oxus, all the Persian lords 
To cope with me in single fight; but they 
Shrank, only Rustum dared; then he and I 


330 

340 

350 


360 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


13 


Changed gifts, and went on equal terms away/ 

So will he speak, perhaps, while men applaud; 

Then were the chiefs of Iran shamed through me.” 

And then he turn’d, and sternly spake aloud: — 

“ Rise! wherefore dost thou vainly question thus 
Of Rustum? I am here, whom thou hast call’d 
By challenge forth; make good thy vaunt, or yield! 

Is it with Rustum only thou wouldst fight ? 

Rash boy, men look on Rustum’s face and flee! 

For well I know, that did great Rustum stand 370 

Before thy face this day, and were reveal’d, 

There would be then no talk of fighting more. 

But being what I am, I tell thee this — 

Do thou record it in thine inmost soul: 

Either thou shalt renounce thy vaunt and yield, 

Or else thy bones shall strew this sand, till winds 
Bleach them, or Oxus with his summer-floods, 

Oxus in summer wash them all away.” 

He spoke; and Sohrab answer’d, on his feet: — 

“ Art thou so fierce? Thou wilt not fright me so! 380 
I am no girl, to be made pale by words. 

Yet this thou hast said well, did Rustum stand 
Here on this field, there were no fighting then. 

But Rustum is far hence, and we stand here. 

Begin! thou art more vast, more dread than I, 

And thou art proved, I know, and I am young — 

But yet success sways with the breath of Heaven. 

And though thou thinkest that thou knowest sure 
Thy victory, yet thou canst not surely know. 

For we are all, like swimmers in the sea, 390 

Poised on the top of a huge wave of fate, 

Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall. 

And whether it will heave us up to land, 

Or whether it will roll us out to sea, 

Back out to sea, to the deep waves of death, 

We know not, and no search will make us know; 

Only the event will teach us in its hour.” 


14 ARNOLD’S POEMS 

He spoke, and Rustum answer’d not, but hurl’d 
His spear; down from the shoulder, down it came, 

As on some partridge in the corn a hawk, 

That long has tower’d in the airy clouds, 

Drops like a plummet; Sohrab saw it come, 

And sprang aside, quick as a flash; the spear 
Hiss’d, and went quivering down into the sand, 
Which it sent flying wide; — then Sohrab threw 
In turn, and full struck Rustum’s shield; sharp rang, 
The iron plates rang sharp, but turn’d the spear. 

And Rustum seized his club, which none but he 
Could wield; an unlopp’d trunk it was, and huge, 

Still rough — like those which men in treeless plains 
To build them boats fish from the flooded rivers, 
Hyphasis or Hydaspes, when, high up 
By their dark springs, the wind in winter-time 
Hath made in Himalayan forests wrack, 

And strewn the channels with torn boughs — so huge 
The club which Rustum lifted now, and struck 
One stroke; but again Sohrab sprang aside, 

Lithe as the glancing snake, and the club came 
Thundering to earth, and leapt from Rustum’s hand. 
And Rustum follow’d his own blow, and fell 
To his knees, and with his fingers clutch’d the sand; 
And now might Sohrab have unsheathed his sword, 
And pierced the mighty Rustum while he lay 
Dizzy, and on his knees, and choked with sand; 

But he look’d on, and smiled, nor bared his sword, 

But courteously drew back, and spoke, and said: — 

“ Thou strik’st too hard! that club of thine will float 
Upon the summer-floods, and not my bones. 

But rise, and be not wroth! not wroth am I; 

No, when I see thee, wrath forsakes my soul. 

Thou say’st, thou art not Rustum; be it so! 

Who art thou then, that canst so touch my soul? 

Boy as I am, I have seen battles too — 

Have waded foremost in their bloody waves, 


400 

410 

420 

430 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


15 


And heard their hollow roar of dying men; 

But never was my heart thus touch’d before. 

Are they from Heaven, these softenings of the heart? 

0 thou old warrior, let us yield to Heaven! 

Come, plant we here in earth our angry spears, 

And make a truce, and sit upon this sand, 

And pledge each other in red wine, like friends, 

And thou shalt talk to me of Rustum’s deeds. 

There are enough foes in the Persian host, 

Whom I may meet, and strike, and feel no pang; 
Champions enough Afrasiab has, whom thou 
Mayst fight; fight them, when they confront thy spear! 
But oh, let there be peace ’twixt thee and me! ” 

He ceased, but while he spake, Rustum had risen, 
And stood erect, trembling with rage; his club 
He left to lie, but had regain’d his spear, 

Whose fiery point now in his mail’d right-hand 
Blazed bright and baleful, like that autumn-star, 

The baleful sign of fevers; dust had soil’d 
His stately crest, and dimm’d his glittering arms. 

His breast heaved, his lips foam’d, and twice his voice 
Was choked with rage; at last these words broke way: — 
“ Girl! nimble with thy feet, not with thy hands! 
Curl’d minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words! 

Fight, let me hear thy hateful voice no more! 

Thou art not in Afrasiab’s gardens now 
With Tartar girls, with whom thou art wont to dance; 
But on the Oxus-sands, and in the dance 
Of battle, and with me, who make no play 
Of war; I fight it out, and hand to hand. 

Speak not to me of truce, and pledge, and wine! 
Remember all thy valour; try thy feints 
And cunning! all the pity I had is gone; 

Because thou hast shamed me before both the hosts 
With thy light skipping tricks, and thy girl’s wiles.” 

He spoke, and Sohrab kindled at his taunts, 

And he too drew his sword; at once they rush’d 


440 

450 

460 

470 


16 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Together, as two eagles on one prey 
Come rushing down together from the clouds, 

One from the east, one from the west; their shields 
Dash’d with a clang together, and a din 
Rose, such as that the sinewy woodcutters 
Make often in the forest’s heart at mom, 

Of hewing axes, crashing trees — such blows 
Rustum and Sohrab on each other hail’d. 

And you would say that sun and stars took part 
In that unnatural conflict; for a cloud 
Grew suddenly in Heaven, and dark’d the sun 
Over the fighters’ heads; and a wind rose 
Under their feet, and moaning swept the plain, 

And in a sandy whirlwind wrapp’d the pair. 

In gloom they twain were wrapp’d and they alone; 
For both the on-looking hosts on either hand 
Stood in broad daylight, and the sky was pure, 

And the sun sparkled on the Oxus stream. 

But in the gloom they fought, with bloodshot eyes 
And labouring breath; first Rustum struck the shield 
Which Sohrab held stiff out; the steel-spiked spear 
Rent the tough plates, but fail’d to reach the skin, 
And Rustum pluck’d it back with angry groan. 

Then Sohrab with his sword smote Rustum’s helm, 
Nor clove its steel quite through; but all the crest 
He shore away, and that proud horsehair plume, 

Never till now defiled, sank to the dust; 

And Rustum bow’d his head; but then the gloom 
Grew blacker, thunder rumbled in the air, 

And lightnings rent the cloud; and Ruksh, the horse, 
Who stood at hand, utter’d a dreadful cry; — 

No horse’s cry was that, most like the roar 
Of some pain’d desert-lion, who all day 
Hath trail’d the hunter’s javelin in his side, 

And comes at night to die upon the sand. 

The two hosts heard that cry, and quaked for fear, 
And Oxus curdled as it cross’d his stream. 




After a Persian miniature in the British Museum. 








18 ARNOLD’S POEMS 

But Sohrab heard, and quail’d not, but rush’d on, 
And struck again; and again Rustum bow’d 
His head; but this time all the blade, like glass, 
Sprang in a thousand shivers on the helm, 

And in the hand the hilt remain’d alone. 

Then Rustum raised his head; his dreadful eyes 
Glared, and he shook on high his menacing spear, 
And shouted: Rustum! — Sohrab heard that shout, 
And shrank amazed; back he recoil’d one step, 

And scann’d with blinking eyes the advancing form; 
And then he stood bewilder’d; and he dropp’d 
His covering shield, and the spear pierced his side. 

He reel’d, and staggering back, sank to the ground; 
And then the gloom dispersed, and the wind fell, 

And the bright sun broke forth, and melted all 
The cloud; and the two armies saw the pair — 

Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet, 

And Sohrab, wounded, on the bloody sand. 

Then, with a bitter smile, Rustum began: — 

“ Sohrab, thou thoughtest in thy mind to kill 
A Persian lord this day, and strip his corpse, 

And bear thy trophies to Afrasiab’s tent. 

Or else that the great Rustum would come down 
Himself to fight, and that thy wiles would move 
His heart to take a gift, and let thee go. 

And then that all the Tartar host would praise 
Thy courage or thy craft, and spread thy fame, 

To glad thy father in his weak old age. 

Fool, thou art slain, and by an unknown man! 

Dearer to the red jackals shalt thou be 
Than to thy friends, and to thy father old.” 

And, with a fearless mien, Sohrab replied: — 

“ Unknown thou art; yet thy fierce vaunt is vain. 
Thou dost not slay me, proud and boastful man! 

No! Rustum slays me, and this filial heart. 

For were I match’d with ten such men as thee, 

And I were that which till to-day I was, 


510 

520 

530 

540 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


19 


They should be lying here, I standing there. 

But that beloved name unnerved my arm — 

That name, and something, I confess, in thee, 
Which troubles all my heart, and made my shield 
Fall; and thy spear transfix’d an unarm’d foe. 
And now thou boastest, and insult’st my fate. 

But hear thou this, fierce man, tremble to hear! 
The mighty Rustum shall avenge my death! 

My father, whom I seek through all the world, 
He shall avenge my death, and punish thee! ” 

As when some hunter in the spring hath found 
A breeding eagle sitting on her nest, 

Upon the craggy isle of a hill-lake, 

And pierced her with an arrow as she rose, 

And follow’d her to find her where she fell 
Far off; —anon her mate comes winging back 
From hunting, and a great way off descries 
His huddling young left sole; at that, he checks 
His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps 
Circles above his eyry, with loud screams 
Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she 
Lies dying, with the arrow in her side, 

In some far stony gorge out of his ken, 

A heap of fluttering feathers — never more 
Shall the lake glass her, flying over it; 

Never the black and dripping precipices 
Echo her stormy scream as she sails by — 

As that poor bird flies home, nor knows his loss, 

So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood 
Over his dying son, and knew him not. 

But, with a cold incredulous voice, he said: — 

“ What prate is this of fathers and revenge ? 

The mighty Rustum never had a son.” 

And, with a failing voice, Sohrab replied: — 
“Ah yes, he had! and that lost son am I. 

Surely the news will one day reach his ear, 

Reach Rustum, where he sits, and tarries long, 


550 

560 

570 

580 


20 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Somewhere, I know not where, but far from here; 
And pierce him like a stab, and make him leap 
To arms, and cry for vengeance upon thee. 

Fierce man, bethink thee, for an only son! 

What will that grief, what will that vengeance be? 
Oh, could I live, till I that grief had seen! 

Yet him I pity not so much, but her, 

My mother, who in Ader-baijan dwells 
With that old king, her father, who grows grey 
With age, and rules over the valiant Koords. 

Her most I pity, who no more will see 
Sohrab returning from the Tartar camp, 

With spoils and honour, when the war is done. 

But a dark rumour will be bruited up, 

From tribe to tribe, until it reach her ear; 

And then will that defenceless woman learn 
That Sohrab will rejoice her sight no more, 

But that in battle with a nameless foe, 

By the far-distant Oxus, he is slain.” 

He spoke; and as he ceased, he wept aloud, 
Thinking of her he left, and his own death. 

He spoke; but Rustum listen’d, plunged in thought. 
Nor did he yet believe it was his son 
Who spoke, although he call’d back names he knew; 
For he had had sure tidings that the babe, 

Which was in Ader-baijan bom to him, 

Had been a puny girl, no boy at all — 

So that sad mother sent him word, for fear 
Rustum should seek the boy, to train in arms 
And so he deem’d that either Sohrab took, 

By a false boast, the style of Rustum’s son; 

Or that men gave it him, to swell his fame. 

So deem’d he; yet he listen’d, plunged in thought 
And his soul set to grief, as the vast tide 
Of the bright rocking Ocean sets to shore 
At the full moon; tears gather’d in his eyes; 

For he remember’d his own early youth, 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


21 


And all its bounding rapture; as, at dawn, 

The shepherd from his mountain-lodge descries 
A far, bright city, smitten by the sun, 

Through many rolling clouds — so Rustum saw 
His youth; saw Sohrab’s mother, in her bloom; 

And that old king, her father, who loved well 
His wandering guest, and gave him his fair child 
With joy; and all the pleasant life they led, 

They three, in that long-distant summer-time — 

The castle, and the dewy woods, and hunt 
And hound, and morn on those delightful hills 
In Ader-baijan. And he saw that Youth, 

Of age and looks to be his own dear son, 

Piteous and lovely, lying on the sand, 

Like some rich hyacinth which by the scythe 
Of an unskilful gardener has been cut, 

Mowing the garden grass-plots near its bed, 

And lies, a fragrant tower of purple bloom, 

On the mown, dying grass — so Sohrab lay, 

Lovely in death, upon the common sand. 

And Rustum gazed on him with grief, and said: — 

“ 0 Sohrab, thou indeed art such a son 
Whom Rustum, wert thou his, might well have loved! 
Yet here thou errest, Sohrab, or else men 
Have told thee false — thou art not Rustum’s son. 
For Rustum had no son; one child he had — 

But one — a girl; who with her mother now 
Plies some light female task, nor dreams of us — 

Of us she dreams not, nor of wounds, nor war/ 7 
But Sohrab answer’d him in wrath; for now 
The anguish of the deep-fix’d spear grew fierce, 

And he desired to draw forth the steel, 

And let the blood flow free, and so to die — 

But first he would convince his stubborn foe; 

And, rising sternly on one arm, he said: — 

“ Man, who art thou who dost deny my words? 
Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, 


620 

630 

640 

650 


22 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


And falsehood, w 1 3 I lived, was far from mine. 

I tell thee, prh ' jf ha this arm I bear 
That seal which Memm to my mother gave, 

That she might & it on the babe she bore.” 

He spoke; and all the blood left Rustum’s cheeks, 
And his knees totter’d, and he smote his hand 
Against his breast, his heavy mailed hand, 

That the hard iron corslet clank’d aloud; 

And to his heart he press’d the other hand, 

And in a hollow voice he spake, and said: — 

“ Sohrab, that were a proof which could not lie! 

If thou show this, then art thou Rustum’s son.” 

Then, with weak hasty fingers, Sohrab loosed 
His belt, and near the shoulder bared his arm, 

And show’d a sign in faint vermilion points 
Prick’d; as a cunning workman, in Pekin, 

Pricks with vermilion some clear porcelain vase, 

An emperor’s gift — at early morn he paints, 

And all day long, and, when night comes, the lamp 
Lights up his studious forehead and thin hands — 

So delicately prick’d the sign appear’d 
On Sohrab’s arm, the sign of Rustum’s seal. 

It was that griffin, which of old rear’d Zal, 

Rustum’s great father, whom they left to die, 

A helpless babe, among the mountain-rocks; 

Him that kind creature found, and rear’d, and loved — 
Then Rustum took it for his glorious sign. 

And Sohrab bared that image on his arm, 

And himself scarin’d it long with mournful eyes, 

And then he touch’d it with his hand and said: — 

“ How say’st thou? Is that sign the proper sign 
Of Rustum’s son, or of some other man’s ? ” 

He spoke; but Rustum gazed, and gazed, and stood 
Speechless; and then he utter’d one sharp cry: 

0 boy — thy father! — and his voice choked there. 
And then a dark cloud pass’d before his eyes, 

And his head swam, and he sank down to earth. 



SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


23 


But Sohrab crawl’d to where he lay* hand cast 

His arms about his neck, and kiss’ T 

And with fond faltering fingers sti ' his cheeks, 

Trying to call him back to life; and r h 

Came back to Rustum, and he oped his eyes, 

And they stood wide with horror; and he seized 
In both his hands the dust which lay around, 

And threw it on his head, and smirch’d his hair, 

His hair, and face, and beard, and glittering arms; 
And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast, 

And his sobs choked him; and he clutch’d his sword, 
To draw it, and for ever let life out. 

But Sohrab saw his thought, and held his hands, 

And with a soothing voice he spake, and said: — 

“ Father, forbear! for I but meet to-day ^ 

The doom which at my birth was written down 
In Heaven, and thou art Heaven’s unconscious hand.’ 
Surely my heart cried out that it was thou, 

When first I saw thee; and thy heart spoke too, 

I know it! but fate trod those promptings down 

Under its iron heel; fate, fate engaged 

The strife, and hurl’d me on my father’s spear. 

But let us speak no more of this! I find 
My father; let me feel that I have found! 

Come, sit beside me on this sand, and take 
My head betwixt thy hands, and kiss my cheeks, 

And wash them with thy tears, and say: My son! 
Quick! quick! for number’d are my sands of life, 
And swift; for like the lightning to this field 
I came, and like the wind I go away — 

Sudden, and swift, and like a passing wind. 

But it was writ in Heaven that this should be. 

So said he, and his voice released the heart 
Of Rustum, and his tears broke forth; he cast 
His arms round his son’s neck, and wept aloud, 

And kiss’d him. And awe fell on both the hosts, 
When they saw Rustum’s grief; and Ruksh, the horse, 


700 


710 


720 


730 


24 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


With his head bowing to the ground and mane 
Sweeping the dust, came near, and in mute woe 
First to the one then to the other moved 
His head, as if inquiring what their grief 
Might mean; and from his dark, compassionate eyes, 

The big warm tears roll’d down, and caked the sand. 

But Rustum chid him with stern voice, and said: — 

“ Ruksh, now thou grievest; but, 0 Ruksh, thy feet 
Should first have rotted on their nimble joints, 

Or ere they brought thy master to this field! ” 740 

But Sohrab look’d upon the horse and said; — 

“ Is this, then, Ruksh ? How often, in past days, 

My mother told me of thee, thou brave steed, 

My terrible father’s terrible horse! and said, 

That I should one day find thy lord and thee. 

Come, let me lay my hand upon thy mane! 

0 Ruksh, thou art more fortunate than I; 

For thou hast gone where I shall never go, 

And snuff d the breezes of my father’s home. 

And thou hast trod the sands of Seistan, 750 

And seen the River of Helmund, and the Lake 

Of Zirrah; and the aged Zal himself 

Has often stroked thy neck, and given thee food, 

Corn in a golden platter soak’d with wine, 

And said; 0 Ruksh! bear Rustum well! — but I 
Have never known my grandsire’s furrow’d face, 

Nor seen his lofty house in Seistan, 

Nor slaked my thirst at the clear Helmund stream; 

But lodged among my father’s foes, and seen 
Afrasiab’s cities only, Samarcand, 760 

Bokhara, and lone Khiva in the waste, 

And the black Toorkmun tents; and only drunk 
The desert rivers, Moorghab and Tejend, 

Kohik, and where the Kalmuks feed their sheep, 

The northern Sir; and this great Oxus stream, 

The yellow Oxus, by whose brink I die.” 

Then, with a heavy groan, Rustum bewail’d: — 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


25 


“ Oh, that its waves were flowing over me! 

Oh, that I saw its grains of yellow silt 

Roll tumbling in the current o’er my head! ” 

But, with a grave mild voice, Sohrab replied: — 
“Desire not that, my father! thou must live. 

For some are born to do great deeds, and live, 

As some are bom to be obscured, and die. 

Do thou the deeds I die too young to do, 

And reap a second glory in thine age; 

Thou art my father, and thy gain is mine. 

But come! thou seest this great host of men 
Which follow me; I pray thee, slay not these! 

Let me entreat for them; what have they done? 
They follow’d me, my hope, my fame, my star. 

Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace. 

But me thou must bear hence, not send with them, 
But carry me with thee to Seistan, 

And place me on a bed, and mourn for me, 

Thou, and the snow-hair’d Zal, and all thy friends. 
And thou must lay me in that lovely earth, 

And heap a stately mound above my bones, 

And plant a far-seen pillar over all. 

That so the passing horseman on the waste 
May see my tomb a great way off, and cry: 

Sohrab, the mighty Rustum’s son, lies there, 

Whom his great father did in ignorance kill! 

And I be not forgotten in my grave.” 

And, with a mournful voice, Rustum replied: — 

“ Fear not! as thou hast said, Sohrab, my son, 

So shall it be; for I will burn my tents, 

And quit the host, and bear thee hence with me, 
And carry thee away to Seistan, 

And place thee on a bed, and mourn for thee, 

With the snow-headed Zal, and all my friends. 

And I will lay thee in that lovely earth, 

And heap a stately mound above thy bones, 

And plant a far-seen pillar over all, 


770 

780 

790 

800 


26 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


And men shall not forget thee in thy grave. 

And I will spare thy host; yea, let them go! 

Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace! 

What should I do with slaying any more? 

For would that all that I have ever slain 
Might be once more alive; my bitterest foes, 

And they who were call’d champions in their time, 
And through whose death I won that fame I have — 
And I were nothing but a common man, 

A poor, mean soldier, and without renown, 

So thou mightest live too, my son, my son! 

Or rather would that I, even I myself, 

Might now be lying on this bloody sand, 

Near death, and by an ignorant stroke of thine, 

Not thou of mine! and I might die, not thou; 

And I, not thou, be borne to Seistan; 

And Zal might weep above my grave, not thine; 

And say: 0 son, I weep thee not too sore, 

For willingly, I know, thou met’st thine end! 

But now in blood and battles was my youth, 

And full of blood and battles is my age, 

And I shall never end this life of blood.” 

Then, at the point of death, Sohrab replied: — 

“ A life of blood indeed, thou dreadful man! 

But thou shalt yet have peace; only not now, 

Not yet! but thou shalt have it on that day, 

When thou shalt sail in a high-masted ship, 

Thou and the other peers of Kai Khosroo, 

Returning home over the salt blue sea, 

From laying thy dear master in his grave.” 

And Rustum gazed in Sohrab’s face, and said: — 

“ Soon be that day, my son, and deep that sea! 

Till then, if fate so wills, let me endure.” 

He spoke; and Sohrab smiled on him, and took 
The spear, and drew it from his side, and eased 
His wound’s imperious anguish; but the blood 
Came welling from the open gash, and life 


810 

820 

830 


840 


SOHRAB AND RUSTUM 


27 


Flow’d with the stream; — all down his cold white side 
The crimson torrent ran, dim now and soil’d, 

Like the soil’d tissue of white violets 
Left, freshly gather’d, on their native bank, 

By children whom their nurses call with haste 
Indoors from the sun’s eye; his head droop’d low, 

His limbs grew slack; motionless, white, he lay— * 

White, with eyes closed; only when heavy gasps, 

Deep heavy gasps quivering through all his frame, 850 
Convulsed him back to life, he open’d them, 

And fix’d them feebly on his father’s face; 

Till now all strength was ebb’d, and from his limbs 
Unwillingly the spirit fled away, 

Regretting the warm mansion which it left, 

And youth, and bloom, and this delightful world. 

So, on the bloody sand, Sohrab lay dead; 

And the great Rustum drew his horseman’s cloak 
Down o’er his face, and sate by his dead son. 

As those black granite pillars, once high-rear’d 860 

By Jemshid in Persepolis, to bear 

His house, now ’mid their broken flights of steps 

Lie prone, enormous, down the mountain side — 

So in the sand lay Rustum by his son. 

And night came down over the solemn waste, 

And the two gazing hosts, and that sole pair, 

And darken’d all; and a cold fog, with night, 

Crept from the Oxus. Soon a hum arose, 

As of a great assembly loosed, and fires 

Began to twinkle through the fog; for now 870 

Both armies moved to camp, and took their meal; 

The Persians took it on the open sands 
Southward, the Tartars by the river marge; 

And Rustum and his son were left alone. 

But the majestic river floated on, 

Out of the mist and hum of that low land, 

Into the frosty starlight, and there moved, 

Rejoicing, through the hush’d Chorasmian waste, 


28 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Under the solitary moon; —-he flow’d 

Right for the polar star, past Orgunje, 880 

Brimming, and bright, and large; then sands begin 

To hem his watery march, and dam his streams, 

And split his currents; that for many a league 
The shorn and parcell’d Oxus strains along 
Through beds of sand and matted rushy isles — 

Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had 
In his high mountain-cradle in Pamere, 

A foil’d circuitous wanderer — till at last 

The long’d-for dash of waves is heard, and wide 

His luminous home of waters opens, bright 890 

And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars 

Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea. 






THE FORSAKEN MERMAN 


Come, dear children, let us away; 

Down and away below! 

Now my brothers call from the bay, 

Now the great winds shoreward blow, 
Now the salt tides seaward flow; 

Now the wild white horses play, 

Champ and chafe and toss in the spray 
Children dear, let us away! 

This way, this way! 

Call her once before you go — 

Call once yet! 

In a voice that she will know: 

“ Margaret! Margaret! ” 

Children’s voices should be dear 
(Call once more) to a mother’s ear; 
Children’s voices, wild with pain — 
Surely she will come again! 

Call her once and come away; 

This way, this way! 

“ Mother dear, we cannot stay! 

The wild white horses foam and fret.” 
Margaret! Margaret! 

Come, dear children, come away down, 
Call no more! 


29 




30 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


One last look at the white-wall’d town, 

And the little grey church on the windy shore, 

Then come down! 

She will not come though you call all day; 

Come away, come away! 

Children dear, was it yesterday 
We heard the sweet bells over the bay ? 

In the caverns where we lay, 

Through the surf and through the swell, 

The far-off sound of a silver bell ? 

Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, 

Where the winds are all asleep; 

Where the spent lights quiver and gleam, 

Where the salt weed sways in the stream, 

Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round, 

Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground; 

Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, 

Dry their mail and bask in the brine; 

Where great whales come sailing by, 

Sail and sail, with unshut eye, 

Round the world for ever and aye? 

When did music come this way? 

Children dear, was it yesterday? 

Children dear, was it yesterday 
(Call yet once) that she went away? 

Once she sate with you and me, 

On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, 

And the youngest sate on her knee. 

She comb’d its bright hair, and she tended it well, 
When down swung the sound of a far-off bell. 

She sigh’d, she look’d up through the clear green sea 
She said: “ I must go, for my kinsfolk pray 
In the little grey church on the shore to-day. 

’Twill be Easter-time in the world — ah me! 

And I lose my poor soul, Merman! here with thee.” 


THE FORSAKEN MERMAN 31 

I said: “ Go up, dear heart, through the waves; 60 

Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves! ” 

She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. 
Children dear, was it yesterday? 

Children dear, were we long alone? 

“ The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; 

Long prayers,” I said, “ in the world they say; 

Come! ” I said; and we rose through the surf in the bay. 

We went up the beach, by the sandy down 
Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town; 
Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still, 70 
To the little grey church on the windy hill. 

From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, 

But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. 

We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, 

And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded 
panes. 

She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear; 

“ Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here! 

Dear heart,'' I said, “ we are long alone; 

The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.” 

But, ah, she gave me never a look, 80 

For her eyes were seal’d to the holy book! 

Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door. 

Come away, children, call no more! 

Come away, come down, call no more! 

Down, down, down! 

Down to the depths of the sea! 

She sits at her wheel in the humming town, 

Singing most joyfully. 

Hark what she sings: “ 0 joy, 0 joy, 

For the humming street, and the child with its toy! 90 
For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well; 

For the wheel where I spun, 

And the blessed light of the sun! ” 


32 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


And so she sings her fill, 

Singing most joyfully, 

Till the spindle drops from her hand, 

And the whizzing wheel stands still. 

She steals to the window, and looks at the sand, 
And over the sand at the sea; 

And her eyes are set in a stare; 

And anon there breaks a sigh, 

And anon there drops a tear, 

From a sorrow-clouded eye, 

And a heart sorrow-laden, 

A long, long sigh; 

For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden 
And the gleam of her golden hair. 


110 


120 


But, children, at midnight, 
When soft the winds blow, 
When clear falls the moonlight, 
When spring-tides are low; 
When sweet airs come seaward 


Come away, away children; 
Come children, come down! 

The hoarse wind blows coldly; 
Lights shine in the town 
She will start from her slumber 
When gusts shake the door; 

She will hear the winds howling, 
Will hear the waves roar. 

We shall see, while above us 
The waves roar and whirl, 

A ceiling of amber, 

A pavement of pearl. 

Singing: “ Here came a mortal, 
But faithless was she! 

And alone dwell for ever 
The kings of the sea.” 


THE FORSAKEN MERMAN 


33 


From heaths starr’d with broom, 

And high rocks throw mildly 130 

On the blanch’d sands a gloom; 

Up the still, glistening beaches, 

Up the creeks we will hie, 

Over banks of bright seaweed 
The ebb-tide leaves dry. 

We will gaze, from the sand-hills, 

At the white, sleeping town; 

At the church on the hill-side — 

And then come back down. 

Singing: “ There dwells a loved one, 140 

But cruel is she! 

She left lonely for ever 
The kings of the sea.” 







TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 


i 

She left the gleam-lit fireplace, 

She came to the bed-side; 

She took his hands in hers — her tears 
Down on his wasted fingers rain’d. 

She raised her eyes upon his face — 
Not with a look of wounded pride, 

A look as if the heart complained — 
Her look was like a sad embrace: 

The gaze of one who can divine 
A grief, and sympathise. 

Sweet flower! thy children’s eyes 
Are not more innocent than thine. 

But they sleep in shelter’d rest, 

Like helpless birds in the warm nest, 
On the castle’s southern side; 

Where feebly comes the mournful roar 
Of buffeting wind and surging tide 
Through many a room and corridor. 
— Full on their window the moon’s ray 
Makes their chamber as bright as day. 
It shines upon the blank white walls, 
And on the snowy pillow falls, 

And on two angel-heads doth play 
34 






TRISTRAM AND ISEULT 


35 


Turn’d to each other — the eyes closed, 

The lashes on the cheeks reposed. 

Round each sweet brow the cap close-set 
Hardly lets peep the golden hair; 

Through the soft-open’d lips the air 
Scarcely moves the coverlet. 

One little wandering arm is thrown 30 

At random on the counterpane, 

And often the fingers close in haste 
As if their baby-owner chased 
The butterflies again, 

This stir they have, and this alone; 

But else they are so still! 

— Ah, tired madcaps! you lie still; 

But were you at the window now, 

To look forth on the fairy sight 
Of your illumined haunts by night, 40 

To see the park-glades where you play 
Far lovelier than they are by day, 

To see the sparkle on the eaves, 

And upon every giant-bough 

Of those old oaks, whose wet red leaves 

Are jewell’d with bright drops of rain — 

How would your voices run again! 

And far beyond the sparkling trees 

Of the castle-park one sees 

The bare heaths spreading, clear as day, 50 

Moor behind moor, far, far away, 

Into the heart of Brittany. 

And here and there, lock’d by the land, 

Long inlets of smooth glittering sea, 

And many a stretch of watery sand 
All shining in the white moon-beams — 

But you see fairer in your dreams! 


36 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


hi 

A year had flown, and o’er the sea away, 

In Cornwall, Tristram and Queen Iseult lay; 

In King Marc’s chapel, in Tyntagel old — 

There in a ship they bore those lovers cold. 

The young surviving Iseult, one bright day, 

Had wander’d forth. Her children were at play 
In a green circular hollow in the heath 
Which borders the sea-shore — a country path 
Creeps over it from the till’d fields behind. 

The hollow’s grassy banks are soft-inclined; 

And to one standing on them, far and near 
The lone unbroken view spreads bright and clear 
Over the waste. This cirque of open ground 
Is light and green; the heather, which all round 
Creeps thickly, grows not here; but the pale grass 
Is strewn with rocks, and many a shiver’d mass 
Of vein’d white-gleaming quartz, and here and there 
Dotted with holly-trees and juniper. 

In the smooth center of the opening stood 
Three hollies side by side, and made a screen, 

Warm with the winter-sun, of burnish’d green 
With scarlet berries gemmed, the fell-fare’s food. 
Under the glittering hollies Iseult stands, 

Watching her children play; their little hands 
Are busy gathering spars of quartz, and streams 
Of stagshorn for their hats; anon, with screams 
Of mad delight they drop their spoils, and bound 
Among the holly-clumps and broken ground, 

Racing full speed, and startling in their rush 
The fell-fares and the speckled missel-thrush 
Out of their glossy coverts; —but when now 
Their cheeks were flush’d, and over each hot brow, 
Under the feather’d hats of the sweet pair, 


60 

70 

80 

90 


SHAKESPEARE 


37 


In blinding masses shower’d the golden hair — 
Then Iseult call’d them to her, and the three 
Cluster’d under the holly-screen, and she 
Told them an old-world Breton history. 



SHAKESPEARE 

Others abide our question. Thou art free. 

We ask and ask — Thou smilest and art still, 

Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill, 

Who to the stars uncrowns his majesty, 

Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, 

Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place, 
Spares but the cloudy border of his base 
To the foil’d searching of mortality; 

And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, 
Self-school’d, self-scann’d, self-honour’d, self-secure, 10 
Didst tread on earth unguess’d at. — Better so! 

All pains the immortal spirit must endure, 

All weakness which impairs, all griefs which bow, 

Find their sole speech in that victorious brow. 





38 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


AUSTERITY OF POETRY 

That son of Italy who tried to blow, 

Ere Dante came, the trump of sacred song, 

In his light youth amid a festal throng 
Sate with his bride to see a public show. 

Fair was the bride, and on her front did glow 
Youth like a star; and what to youth belong — 

Gay raiment, sparkling gauds, elation strong. 

A prop gave way! crash fell a platform! lo, 

’Mid struggling sufferers, hurt to death, she lay! 
Shuddering, they drew her garments off — and found 10 
A robe of sackcloth next the smooth, white skin. 

Such, poets, is your bride, the Muse! young, gay, 

Radiant, adorn’d outside; a hidden ground 
Of thought and of austerity within. 


THE STRAYED REVELLER 

The Portico of Circe's palace — Evening 

(A youth has strayed into Circe’s palace and has tasted from 
the bowl on the altar of the Goddess. Ulysses enters and seeing 
the youth asks Circe whom she has lulled to an enchanted sleep. 
She replies that she has not lured the youth hither; but since he 
now wakes, she suggests that Ulysses ask him to tell the reason 
for his coming. The following is his reply.) 

The Youth 

The gods are happy. 

They turn on all sides 
Their shining eyes, 

And see below them 
The earth and men. 



(THE STRAYED REVELLER 





























40 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


They see Tiresias 
Sitting, staff in hand, 

On the warm, grassy 
Asopus bank, 

His robe drawn over 10 

His old sightless head, 

Revolving inly 
The doom of Thebes. 

They see the centaurs 
In the upper glens 
Of Pelion, in the streams 
Where red-berried ashes fringe 
The clear-brown shallow pools, 

With streaming flanks, and heads 

Reared proudly, snuffing 20 

The mountain wind. 

They see the Scythian 

On the wide steppe, unharnessing 

His wheeled house at noon. 

He tethers his beast down, and makes his meal — 

Mares’ milk, and bread 

Baked on the embers. All around, 

The boundless, waving grass-plains stretch, thick- 
starred 

With saffron and the yellow hollyhock 

And flag-leaved iris-flowers. 30 

Sitting in his cart 

He makes his meal; before him, for long miles, 

Alive with bright green lizards, 

And the springing bustard-fowl, 

The track, a straight black line, 

Furrows the rich soil; here and there 
Clusters of lonely mounds 
Topped with rough-hewn, 


THE STRAYED REVELLER 41 

Gray, rain-bleared statues, overpeer 
The sunny waste. 

They see the heroes 
Sitting in the dark ship 
On the foamless, long-heaving, 

Violet sea, 

At sunset nearing 
The Happy Islands. 

These things, Ulysses, 

The wise bards also 
Behold, and sing. 

But oh, what labor! 

0 prince, what pain! 

They too can see 
Tiresias; but the gods, 

Who gave them vision, 

Added this law: 

That they should bear too 
His groping blindness, 

His dark foreboding, 

His scorned white hairs; 

Bear Hera’s anger 
Through a life lengthened 
To seven ages. 

They see the centaurs 
On Pelion: then they feel, 

They too, the maddening wine 

Swell their large veins to bursting; in wild pain 

They feel the biting spears 

Of the grim Lapithae, and Theseus, drive, 

Drive crashing through their bones; they feel, 
High on a jutting rock in the red stream, 
Alcmena’s dreadful son 


40 

50 

60 

70 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Ply his bow. Such a price 
The gods exact for song: 

To become what we sing. 

They see the merchants 

On the Oxus-stream; but care 

Must visit first them too, and make them pale: 

Whether, through whirling sand, 

A cloud of desert robber-horse have burst 
Upon their caravan; or greedy kings, 

In the walled cities the way passes through, 
Crushed them with tolls; or fever-airs, 

On some great river’s marge, 

Mown them down, far from home. 

They see the heroes 

Near harbor; but they share 

Their lives, and former violent toil in Thebes, — 

Seven-gated Thebes, or Troy; 

Or where the echoing oars 

Of Argo first 

Startled the unknown sea. 

The old Silenus 

Came, lolling in the sunshine, 

From the dewy forest-coverts, 

This way, at noon. 

Sitting by me, while his fauns 
Down at the water-side 
Sprinkled and smoothed 
His drooping garland, 

He told me these things. 

But I, Ulysses, 

Sitting on the warm steps, 

Looking over the valley, 

All day long, have seen, 


DOVER BEACH 


43 


Without pain, without labor, 

Sometimes a wild-haired maenad, 

Sometimes a faun with torches, 

And sometimes, for a moment, 

Passing through the dark stems 

Flo wing-robed, the beloved, 110 

The desired, the divine 

Beloved Iacchus. 

Ah, cold night-wind, tremulous stars! 

Ah, glimmering water, 

Fitful earth-murmur, 

Dreaming woods! 

Ah, golden-haired, strangely smiling goddess 
And thou, proved, much-enduring, 

Wave-tossed wanderer! 

Who can stand still? 120 

Ye fade, ye swim, ye waver before me — 

The cup again! 

Faster, faster, 

0 Circe, goddess, 

Let the wild, thronging train, 

The bright procession 
Of eddying forms, 

Sweep through my soul! 


DOVER BEACH 

The sea is calm to-night. 

The tide is full, the moon lies fair 
Upon the straits; —on the French coast the light 
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand, 
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. 
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air! 

Only, from the long line of spray 



44 


ARNOLD’S POEMS ' 

Where the sea meets the moon-blanch’d land, 

Listen! you hear the grating roar 

Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, 10 

At their return, up the high strand, 

Begin, and cease, and then again begin, 

With tremulous cadence slow, and bring 
The eternal note of sadness in. 

Sophocles long ago 

Heard it on the vEgsean, and it brought 
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow 
Of human misery; we 
Find also in the sound a thought, 

Hearing it by this distant northern sea. 20 

The Sea of Faith 

Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore 
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl’d. 

But now I only hear 

Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, 

Retreating, to the breath 

Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear 

And naked shingles of the world. 

Ah, love, let us be true 

To one another! for the world, which seems 30 

To lie before us like a land of dreams, 

So various, so beautiful, so new, 

Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, 

Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; 

And we are here as on a darkling plain 

Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, 

Where ignorant armies clash by night. 


THE CHURCH OF BROU 


45 


THE CHURCH OF BROU 
The Tomb 

So rest, for ever rest, 0 princely Pair! 

In your high church, ’mid the still mountain-air, 

Where horn, and hound, and vassals, never come. 

Only the blessed Saints are smiling dumb, 

From the rich painted windows of the nave, 

On aisle, and transept, and your marble grave; 

Where thou, young Prince! shalt never more arise 
From the fringed mattress where thy Duchess lies, 

On autumn-mornings, when the bugle sounds, 

And ride across the drawbridge with thy hounds 10 
To hunt the boar in the crisp woods till eve; 

And thou, 0 Princess! shalt no more receive, 

Thou and thy ladies, in the hall of state, 

The jaded hunters with their bloody freight, 

Coming benighted to the castle-gate. 

So sleep, for ever sleep, 0 marble Pair! 

Or, if ye wake, let it be then, when fair 
On the carved western front a flood of light 
Streams from the setting sun, and colours bright 
Prophets, transfigured Saints, and Martyrs brave, 20 
In the vast western window of the nave; 

And on the pavement round the Tomb there glints 
A chequer-work of glowing sapphire-tints, 

And amethyst, and ruby — then unclose 
Your eyelids on the stone where ye repose, 

And from your broider’d pillows lift your heads, 

And rise upon your cold white marble beds; 

And, looking down on the warm rosy tints, 

Which chequer, at your feet, the illumined flints, 

Say: What is thisf we are in bliss — forgiven — 30 

Behold the 'pavement of the courts of Heaven! 

Or let it be on autumn nights, when rain 
Doth rustlingly above your heads complain 


46 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


On the smooth leaden roof, and on the walls 

Shedding her pensive light at intervals 

The moon through the clere-story windows shines, 

And the wind washes through the mountain-pines. 
Then, gazing up ’mid the dim pillars high, 

The foliaged marble forest where ye lie, 

Hush, ye will say, it is eternity! 40 

This is the glimmering verge of Heaven, and these 
The columns of the heavenly palaces! 

And, in the sweeping of the wind, your ear 
The passage of the Angels’ wings will hear, 

And on the lichen-crusted leads above 
The rustle of the eternal rain of love. 


LINES 

Written in Kensington Gardens 

In this lone, open glade I lie, 

Screen’d by deep boughs on either hand; 

And at its end, to stay the eye, 

Those black-crown’d, red-boled pine-trees stand! 

Birds here make song, each bird has his, 

Across the girdling city’s hum. 

How green under the boughs it is! 

How thick the tremulous sheep-cries come! 

Sometimes a child will cross the glade 

To take his nurse his broken toy; 10 

Sometimes a thrush flit overhead 

Deep in her unknown day’s employ. 

Here at my feet what wonders pass, 

What endless, active life is here! 









ARNOLD'S POEMS 


What blowing daisies, fragrant grass! 

An air-stirr'd forest, fresh and clear. 

Scarce fresher is the mountain-sod 
Where the tired angler lies, stretch'd out, 
And, eased of basket and of rod, 

Counts his day’s spoil, the spotted trout. 

In the huge world, which roars hard by, 
Be others happy if they can! 

But in my helpless cradle I 
Was breathed on by the rural Pan. 

I, on men's impious uproar hurl’d, 

Think often, as I hear them rave, 

That peace has left the upper world 
And now keeps only in the grave. 

Yet here is peace for ever new! 

When I who watch them am away, 

Still all things in this glade go through 
The changes of their quiet day. 

Then to their happy rest they pass! 

The flowers upclose, the birds are fed, 
The night comes down upon the grass, 
The child sleeps warmly in his bed. 

Calm soul of all things! make it mine 
To feel, amid the city's jar, 

That there abides a peace of thine, 

Man did not make, and cannot mar. 

The will to neither strive nor cry, 

The power to feel with others give! 
Calm, calm me more! nor let me die 
Before I have begun to live. 


THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY 


49 


THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY 

Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill; 

Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes! 

No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed, 

Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats, 

Nor the cropp’d herbage shoot another head. 

But when the fields are still, 

And the tired men and dogs all gone to rest, 

And only the white sheep are sometimes seen 
Cross and recross the strips of moon-blanch’d green, 
Come, shepherd, and again begin the quest! 10 

Here, where the reaper was at work of late — 

In this high field’s dark corner, where he leaves 
His coat, his basket, and his earthen cruse, 

And in the sun all morning binds the sheaves, 

Then here, at noon, comes back his stores to use — 
Here will I sit and wait, 

While to my ear from uplands far away 
The bleating of the folded flocks is borne, 

With distant cries of reapers in the corn — 

All the live murmur of a summer’s day. 20 

Screen’d is this nook o’er the high, half-reap’d field, 

And here till sun-down, shepherd! will I be. 

Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep, 

And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see 
Pale pink convolvulus in tendrils creep; 

And air-swept lindens yield 
Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers 
Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid, 

And bower me from the August sun with shade; 

And the eye travels down to Oxford’s towers. 

And near me on the grass lies Glanvil’s book — 

Come, let me read the oft-read tale again! 


30 


50 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


The story of the Oxford scholar poor, 

Of pregnant parts and quick inventive brain, 

Who, tired of knocking at preferment’s door, 

One summer-morn forsook 
His friends, and went to learn the gipsy-lore, 

And roam’d the world with that wild brotherhood, 

And came, as most men deem’d, to little good, 

But came to Oxford and his friends no more. 40 

But once, years after, in the country-lanes, 

Two scholars, whom at college erst he knew, 

Met him, and of his way of life enquired; 

Whereat he answer’d, that the gipsy-crew, 

His mates, had arts to rule as they desired 
The workings of men’s brains, 

And they can bind them to what thoughts they will. 

“ And I,” he said, “ the secret of their art, 

When fully learn’d, will to the world impart; 

But it needs heaven-sent moments for this skill.” 50 

This said, he left them, and return’d no more. — 

But rumours hung about the country-side, 

That the lost Scholar long was seen to stray, 

Seen by rare glimpses, pensive and tongue-tied, 

In hat of antique shape, and cloak of grey, 

The same the gipsies wore. 

Shepherds had met him on the Hurst in spring; 

At some lone alehouse in the Berkshire moors, 

On the warm ingle-bench, the smock-frock’d boors 
Had found him seated at their entering, 60 

But, ’mid their drink and clatter, he would fly. 

And I myself seem half to know thy looks, 

And put the shepherds, wanderer! on thy trace; 

And boys who in lone wheatfields scare the rooks 
I ask if thou hast pass’d their quiet place; 

Or in my boat I lie 


THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY 


51 


Moor’d to the cool bank in the summer-heats, 

’Mid wide grass meadows which the sunshine fills, 
And watch the warm, green-muffled Cumner hills, 
And wonder if thou haunt’st their shy retreats. 

For most, I know, thou lov’st retired ground! 

Thee at the ferry Oxford riders blithe, 

Returning home on summer-nights, have met 
Crossing the stripling Thames at Bab-lock-hithe, 
Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet, 

As the punt’s rope chops round; 

And leaning backward in a pensive dream, 

And fostering in thy lap a heap of flowers 
Pluck’d in shy fields and distant Wychwood bowers, 
And thine eyes resting on the moonlit stream. 

And then they land, and thou art seen no more! — 
Maidens, who from the distant hamlets come 
To dance around the Fyfield elm in May, 

Oft through the darkening fields have seen thee roam, 
Or cross a stile into the public way. 

Oft thou hast given them store 
Of flowers — the frail-leaf’d, white anemony, 

Dark bluebells drench’d with dews of summer eves, 
And purple orchises with spotted leaves'— 

But none hath words she can report of thee. 

And, above Godstow Bridge, when hay-time’s here 
In June, and many a scythe in sunshine flames, 

Men who through those wide fields of breezy grass 
Where black-wing’d swallows haunt the glittering 
Thames 

To bathe in the abandon’d lasher pass, 

Have often pass’d thee near 
Sitting upon the river bank o’ergrown; 

Mark’d thine outlandish garb, thy figure spare, 

Thy dark vague eyes, and soft abstracted air — 
But, when they came from bathing, thou wast gone! 


70 

80 

) 

90 

100 


52 ARNOLD’S POEMS 

At some lone homestead in the Cumner hills, 

Where at her open door the housewife darns, 

Thou hast been seen, or hanging on a gate 
To watch the threshers in the mossy barns. 

Children, who early range these slopes and late 
For cresses from the rills, 

Have known thee eying, all an April-day, 

The springing pastures and the feeding kine; 

And mark’d thee* when the stars come out and 
Through the long dewy grass move slow away. 

In autumn, on the skirts of Bagley Wood — 

Where most the gipsies by the turf-edged way 
Pitch their smoked tents, and every bush you 
With scarlet patches tagg’d and shreds of grey, 

Above the forest-ground called Thessaly — 

The blackbird, picking food, 

Sees thee, nor stops his meal, nor fears at all; 

So often has he known thee past him stray, 

Rapt, twirling in thy hand a wither’d spray, 

And waiting for the spark from heaven to fall. 

And once, in winter, on the causeway chill 
Where home through flooded fields foot-travellers go, 

Have I not pass’d thee on the wooden bridge, 

Wrapt in thy cloak and battling with the snow, 

Thy face tow’rd Hinksey and its wintry ridge? 

And thou hast climb’d the hill, 

And gain’d the white brow of the Cumner range; 

Turn’d once to watch, while thick the snowflakes 
fah, 

The line of festal light in Christ-Church hall — 

Then sought thy straw in some sequester’d grange. 130 

But what — I dream! Two hundred years are flown 
Since first thy story ran through Oxford halls, 

And the grave Glanvil did the tale inscribe 


shine, 


110 


see 


120 



54 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


That thou wert wander’d from the studious walls 
To learn strange arts, and join a gipsy-tribe; 

And thou from earth art gone 
Long since, and in some quiet churchyard laid — 

Some country-nook, where o’er thy unknown grave 
Tall grasses and white flowering nettles wave, 

Under a dark, red-fruited yew-tree’s shade. 140 

— No, no, thou hast not felt the lapse of hours! 

For what wears out the life of mortal men? 

’Tis that from change to change their being rolls; 

’Tis that repeated shocks, again, again, 

Exhaust the energy of strongest souls 
And numb the elastic powers. 

Till having used our nerves with bliss and teen, 

And tired upon a thousand schemes our wit, 

To the just-pausing Genius we remit 
Our worn-out life, and are — what we have been. 150 

Thou hast not lived, why should’st thou perish, so? 

Thou hadst one aim, one business, one desire; 

Else wert thou long since number’d with the dead! 

Else hadst thou spent, like other men, thy fire! 

The generations of thy peers are fled, 

And we ourselves shall go; 

But thou possesses! an immortal lot, 

And we imagine thee exempt from age 
And living as thou liv’st on Glanvil’s page, 

Because thou hadst — what we, alas! have not. 160 

For early didst thou leave the world, with powers 
Fresh, undiverted to the world without, 

Firm to their mark, not spent on other things; 

Free from the sick fatigue, the languid doubt, 

Which much to have tried, in much been baffled, 
brings. 

0 life unlike to ours! 


THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY 


55 


Who fluctuate idly without term or scope, 

Of whom each strives, nor knows for what he 
strives, 

And each half lives a hundred different lives; 

Who wait like thee, but not, like thee, in hope. 170 

Thou waitest for the spark from heaven! and we, 

Light half-believers of our casual creeds, 

Who never deeply felt, nor clearly will’d, 

Whose insight never has borne fruit in deeds, 

Whose vague resolves never have been fulfill’d; 

For whom each year we see 
Breeds new beginnings, disappointments new; 

Who hesitate and falter life away, 

And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day — 

Ah! do not we, wanderer! await it too? 180 

Yes, we await it! —but it still delays, 

And then we suffer! and amongst us one, 

Who most has suffer’d, takes dejectedly 
His seat upon the intellectual throne; 

And all his store of sad experience he 
Lays bare of wretched days; 

Tells us his misery’s birth and growth and signs, 

And how the dying spark of hope was fed, 

And how the breast was soothed, and how the head, 

And all his hourly varied anodynes. 190 

This for our wisest! and we others pine, 

And wish the long unhappy dream would end, 

And waive all claim to bliss, and try to bear; 

With close-lipp’d patience for our only friend, 

Sad patience, too near neighbour to despair — 

But none has hope like thine! 

Thou through the fields and through the woods dost 
stray, 

Roaming the country-side, a truant boy, 


56 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Nursing thy project in unclouded joy, 

And every doubt long blown by time away. 200 

0 born in days when wits were fresh and clear, 

And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames; 

Before this strange disease of modern life, 

With its sick hurry, its divided aims, 

Its heads o’ertax’d, its palsied hearts, was rife — 

Fly hence, our contact fear! 

Still fly, plunge deeper in the bowering wood! 

Averse, as Dido did with gesture stern 
From her false friend’s approach in Hades turn, 

Wave us away, and keep thy solitude! 210 

Still nursing the unconquerable hope, 

Still clutching the inviolable shade, 

With a free, onward impulse brushing through, 

By night, the silver’d branches of the glade — 

Far on the forest-skirts, where none pursue, 

On some mild pastoral slope 
Emerge, and resting on the moonlit pales 
Freshen thy flowers as in former years 
With dew, or listen with enchanted ears, 

From the dark dingles, to the nightingales! 220 

But fly our paths, our feverish contact fly! 

For strong the infection of our mental strife, 

Which, though it gives no bliss, yet spoils for rest; 

And we should win thee from thy own fair life, 

Like us distracted, and like us unblest. 

Soon, soon thy cheer would die, 

Thy hopes grow timorous, and unfix’d thy powers, 

And thy clear aims be cross and shifting made; 

And then thy glad perennial youth would fade, 

Fade, and grow old at last, and die like ours. 230 

Then fly our greetings, fly our speech and smiles! 

— As some grave Tyrian trader, from the sea, 


REQUIESCAT 5 

Descried at sunrise an emerging prow 
Lifting the cool-hair’d creepers stealthily, 

The fringes of a southward-facing brow 
Among the iEgsean isles; 

And saw the merry Grecian coaster come, 

Freighted with amber grapes, and Chian wine, 
Green, bursting figs, and tunnies steep’d in brine — 
And knew the intruders on his ancient home, 

The young light-hearted masters of the waves — 

And snatch’d his rudder, and shook out more sail; 

And day and night held on indignantly 
O’er the blue Midland waters with the gale, 

Betwixt the Syrtes and soft Sicily, 

To where the Atlantic raves 
Outside the western straits; and unbent sails 

There, where down cloudy cliffs, through sheets of 
foam, 

Shy traffickers, the dark Iberians come; 

And on the beach undid his corded bales. 


REQUIESCAT 

Strew on her roses, roses, 

And never a spray of yew! 

In quiet she reposes; 

Ah, would that I did too! 

Her mirth the world required; 

She bathed it in smiles of glee. 

But her heart was tired, tired, 

And now they let-her be. 

Her life was turning, turning, 

In mazes of heat and sound. 

But for peace her soul was yearning, 
And now peace laps her round. 


58 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Her cabin’d, ample spirit, 

It flutter’d and fail’d for breath. 
To-night it doth inherit 
The vasty hall of death. 


KAISER DEAD 
April 6,1887 

What, Kaiser dead ? The heavy news 
Post-haste to Cobham calls the Muse, 

From where in Farringford she brews 
The ode sublime, 

Or with Pen-bryn’s bold bard pursues 
A rival rhyme. 

Kai’s bracelet tail, Kai’s busy feet, 

Were known to all the village-street. 

“ What, poor Kai dead ? ” say all I meet; 

“ A loss indeed! ” 10 

0 for the croon pathetic, sweet, 

Of Robin’s reed! 

Six years ago I brought him down, 

A baby dog, from London town; 

Round his small throat of black and brown 
A ribbon blue, 

And vouch’d by glorious renown 
A dachshound true. 

His mother, most majestic dame, 

Of blood-unmix’d, from Potsdam came; 20 

And Kaiser’s race we deem’d the same — 

No lineage higher. 

And so he bore the imperial name. 

But ah, his sire! 


KAISER DEAD 


Soon, soon the days conviction bring. 
The collie hair, the collie swing, 

The tail’s indomitable ring, 

The eye’s unrest — 

The case was clear; a mongrel thing 
Kai stood contest. 

But all those virtues, which commend 
The humbler sort who serve and tend, 
Were thine in store, thou faithful friend. 

What sense, what cheer! 
To us, declining tow’rds our end, 

A mate how dear! 

For Max, thy brother-dog, began 
To flag, and feel his narrowing span. 

And cold, besides, his blue blood ran, 
Since, ’gainst the classes, 
He heard, of late, the Grand Old Man 
Incite the masses. 

Yes, Max and we grew slow and sad; 
But Kai, a tireless shepherd-lad, 

Teeming with plans, alert, and glad 
In work or play, 

Like sunshine went and came, and bade 
Live out the day! 

Still, still I see the figure smart — 
Trophy in mouth, agog to start, 

Then, home return’d, once more depart; 

Or prest together 
Against thy mistress, loving heart, 

In winter weather. 

I see the tail, like bracelet twirl’d, 

In moments of disgrace uncurl’d, 


60 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Then at a pardoning word re-furl’d, 

A conquering sign; 

Crying, “ Come on, and range the world, 

And never pine.” 60 

Thine eye was bright, thy coat it shone; 

Thou hadst thine errands, off and on; 

In joy thy last morn flew; anon, 

A fit! All’s over; 

And thou art gone where Geist hath gone, 

And Toss, and Rover. 

Poor Max, with downcast, reverent head, 

Regards his brother’s form outspread; 

Full well Max knows the friend is dead 

Whose cordial talk, 70 

And jokes in doggish language said, 

Beguiled his walk. 

And Glory, stretch’d at Burwood gate, 

Thy passing by doth vainly wait; 

And jealous Jock, thy only hate, 

The chiel from Skye, 

Lets from his shaggy Highland pate 
Thy memory die. 

Well, fetch his graven collar fine, 

And rub the steel, and make it shine, 80 

And leave it round thy neck to twine, 

Kai, in thy grave. 

There of thy master keep that sign, 

And this plain stave. 


SOURCE OF THE PLOT OF SOHRAB 
AND RUSTUM 


The story of Sohrab and Rustum is an episode from the 
great Persian epic Shah Nameh or “ Book of Kings ” by 
Abul Kasin Mansur, who was called by the Shah, “ Fir¬ 
dausi ” or “ Singer of Paradise.” Although the writing of 
this poem dates from the tenth century, it goes back to 
the earliest half-mythical history of Persia and records 
the various glories of the Persian monarchs and heroes 
down to the middle of the sixth century. During the 
middle and latter part of the nineteenth century, trans¬ 
lations from the original Persian were made into the vari¬ 
ous European languages. It was probably a translation 
by James Atkinson in 1832 that Matthew Arnold used. 
The following is a condensed version of the Sohrab and 
Rustum story from the “ Book of Kings.” 

One day as Rustum was passing through the country, 
he saw a mighty mare with a colt by her side that had 
the face and shoulders of a lion and in strength seemed 
like an elephant. The keeper told him that the mare 
had belonged to Rustum and was called Ruksh which 
signified “ lightning.” When Rustum heard this, he 
leaped on the colt and sped' over the plains. 

One day after a hunt he laid himself down to slumber 
with Ruksh in the pasture beside him. As he slept, seven 
knights overpowered the horse and led him into the city 
of Samengan which was near by. When Rustum awoke, 
he followed the tracks even into the gates of the city and 
demanded of the king and his nobles that Ruksh be re¬ 
turned. The king promised him that all would be well 
61 





V"£ 

Sv^ 


: «*gy 












SOURCE OF THE PLOT 


63 


and invited him to a feast with sweet singers in his honor. 
After the feast the king himself led Rustum to a couch 
perfumed with musk and roses and promised safety to 
him and his steed. Toward morning a murmur of sweet 
voices came to his ears; then there entered into his cham¬ 
ber a slave, bearing a lamp perfumed with amber, fol¬ 
lowed by a veiled lady. When he asked the unknown 
lady her name, she said that she was the daughter of the 
king and was called “ Tahmineh.” Having heard of his 
deeds of prowess, she had yearned to look upon his face. 
She offered, if he would marry her, to restore Ruksh to 
him and put the land of Samengan under his feet. Since 
she was both fair and wise, Rustum readily assented. 
Accordingly the next day he sent a messenger to the king 
and asked for the hand of Tahmineh. The king rejoiced 
and gave him his daughter with all due rights and cere¬ 
monies. When Rustum was alone with Tahmineh, he 
gave her a wonderful onyx to keep in case heaven should 
give her a child. If it should be a girl, it should be 
fastened within her locks; if a boy, it should be fastened 
about his arm. And Tahmineh rejoiced over it. When 
Ruksh was finally returned to Rustum, he knew that he 
must turn back to his own people into Zamboulistan. He 
bade Tahmineh a sad farewell; and as he journeyed on, 
he resolved to tell no one of his adventures among the 
Tartars. 

When, after the course of time, a son was born to Tah¬ 
mineh, she called him “ Sohrab ” because his mouth was 
filled with smiles. When he was only a month old, he was 
like a child of twelve years; and when he was five, he 
was skilled in the art of war; and when he was ten, he 
excelled all in the land in games of strength. One day 
he asked his mother who his father was. She told him 
of the mighty Rustum, showing him the gifts that his 
father had sent him at his birth. His mother warned 
him, however, to be silent about all this; for Afrasiab, 
the ruler of the land, was a foe of the glorious Rustum 


64 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


and might kill his son, or if Rustum learned of his son’s 
prowess, he might take him away from her. But Sohrab 
immediately resolved to go to war against the Persians 
to cast their king Kai Kaous from the throne and put 
Rustum in his stead. His plan was Ito kill Afrasiab, and 
himself mount the throne of the Turks with Tahmineh 
as queen of the two lands. Tahmineh rejoiced at the 
courage of her son and ordered the guardian of the flocks 
to find a horse suitable for him. After many days of 
searching, he finally found one that was the foal sprung 
from Ruksh, and on him he set out to make war against 
the Persians. 

When Afrasiab heard of Sohrab’s undertaking, he 
plotted with his nobles not to tell Rustum of his son’s 
strength but to bring them together in combat. If 
Sohrab killed Rustum, Afrasiab would then get Iran and 
would then subdue Sohrab, but if Sohrab were killed and 
his father afterward learned the truth, it would bring 
him to his grave. He covered up his dark design by 
sending gifts and a letter to Sohrab, saying that, if Sohrab 
overcame Iran, he should be made king and the three 
lands, Iran, Turan, and Samengan should be united. 
Sohrab rejoiced and set out into the land of Iran de¬ 
stroying all as he passed. 

In the meantime, a maiden knight whom Sohrab had 
once overcome sent word to the king, Kai Kaous, that an 
army was coming against him with a chief that was a 
child in years but a lion in strength and stature. When 
the king received the letter, he immediately sent word to 
Rustum to his home in Zamboulistan to come at once to 
the aid of Iran. When the messenger told Rustum, he 
marvelled that such a hero should arise among the 
Turks, for his own son was still only an infant. Rustum 
feasted the messenger for three days, delaying his an¬ 
swer and telling the messenger that the king would not 
dare to be angry with him. Finally on the fourth day 
at the urgent entreaty of the messenger, he set forth with 


SOURCE OF THE PLOT 65 

his train to the courts of the Shah. But Kai Kaous 
was exceedingly angry that Rustum had defied the 
urgency of his appeal and ordered him to be hanged. 
However, Rustum broke away from his guards and came 
back to hurl vengeance upon the king. In his anger he 
strode from the presence chamber, sprang upon Ruksh, 
and departed from the country. The nobles were so dis¬ 
tressed by the king’s conduct that they begged the aged 
counsellor Gudurz to reason with the king. The Shah 
finally saw the folly of his way and asked Gudurz to go 
himself to ask Rustum to forget the evil words of the 
Shah. Many of the nobles went with Gudurz on his mis¬ 
sion, and they prostrated themselves before Rustum. At 
first Rustum refused to hearken to their plea; but when 
Gudurz pointed out to him that the Turks would say 
he was afraid of this beardless boy, he consented. Then 
Rustum rode back to the gates of the city of the king, 
and the Shah came down from the throne to meet him. 
Rustum then promised him allegiance until death, and 
they visited together with the nobles. 

On the morrow the legion of Persia came forth at the 
behest of the Shah and pitched their tents by the fortress 
of Hayir. When Sohrab’s watchman saw them, he ut¬ 
tered a great cry. And when Sohrab heard it, he rejoiced 
and, demanding a cup of wine, drank to the destruction 
of their enemies. When the second morning was come, 
Sohrab put on his armor, rode forth into the camp of 
the Iranians, and broke down all their barriers-with a 
spear. When he opened his mouth, a voice of thunder 
was heard throughout the camps. The Persian nobles, 
sore afraid, sought out Rustum. They urged him not to 
delay, buckled his armor upon him, and saddled Ruksh 
to make him ready for the strife. 

Now when Rustum was come before Sohrab, he sug¬ 
gested that they step forth from out of the line of battle 
into the neutral zone for single combat. When Sohrab 
would have fallen upon him, the heart of Rustum soft- 


66 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


ened, and he begged Sohrab to join the ranks of Iran, for 
they had need of just such a hero as he was. And the 
heart of Sohrab went out to Rustum, and he looked wist¬ 
fully at him and asked him if he were not the great 
Rustum. When Rustum assured him that he was not, 
but only a slave, then Sohrab was sad, for his hopes were 
shattered. Then he made ready for the combat and they 
fought until their spears were shattered and their swords 
were hacked. Then they took their clubs until they too 
were broken. They strove together until their mail was 
torn and their horses spent with exhaustion. Finally 
they wrestled together until the blood ran down their 
bodies, but to neither was given the victory. As they 
rested, Rustum thought how in all his days he had not 
coped with such a hero. 

In the second encounter they fought with arrows, and 
still neither surpassed the other. When Rustum tried to 
hurl Sohrab from his steed, he could shake him no more 
than a mountain could be moved. So they took again to 
clubs, and this time Sohrab smote Rustum so hard that 
he reeled beneath the stroke. Sohrab, vaunting his ad¬ 
vantage, bade Rustum go fight with those who were his 
equals. Then Rustum spread confusion among the 
Turanians and Sohrab among the Iranians; but when 
Rustum saw the destruction that the youth had caused, 
he bade him come down to single combat on the morrow. 
In the meantime, each prayed and sent messages to his 
loved ones in case of death. Sohrab then asked his chief 
again to tell him if he were not Rustum, but Afrasiab 
had forbidden the latter to tell the truth. So Sohrab held 
his peace, but he was not wholly satisfied. Before the 
contest on the next day Sohrab again asked Rustum, for 
his heart seemed to speak love toward him; but Rustum 
answered only that they were girded for the combat and 
that the Master of the world should alone decide between 
them. And they measured their strength from the morn¬ 
ing to setting sun. At the close of day, Sohrab threw 


SOURCE OF THE PLOT 


67 


Rustum from his horse and stood over him with his sword 
drawn. Rustum then used craft, calling attention to the 
law of honor that he who overthrows a brave man for 
the first time shall not destroy him. Because of this 
saying, Sohrab spared Rustum. 

That night Rustum prayed to the gods for greater 
power and was given such strength that the rock whereon 
he stood gave way. Seeing this strength too much, he 
prayed that it be taken away again. However, on the 
next morning when he saw Sohrab coming forward toward 
him like an elephant, he prayed that the same strength 
might be restored. With the power given him by the 
god, he hurled Sohrab unto the earth and broke his back 
like a reed, and he drew forth his sword and severed his 
body. When Sohrab knew it was the end, he gave a great 
groan and said that his father would avenge his death — 
the great Rustum. When Rustum heard this, his sword 
fell from his grasp, the earth became dark before his 
eyes and he sank lifeless beside his son. When he opened 
his eyes again, he asked Sohrab for a sign that his words 
were true, confessing that he was Rustum. Sohrab, an¬ 
gered that he had not heeded his former warning, showed 
him the onyx upon his arm. When Rustum saw it, he 
covered his face with ashes and moaned aloud in his 
sorrow. Then Sohrab consoled his father, saying that it 
was, after all, only fate that had determined the issue, 
and he asked as a special favor that his men might go 
back in safety, for he alone had been responsible for the 
expedition. Then Rustum would have taken his own life 
in his despair, had not his nobles prevented him. 

Suddenly Rustum remembered a healing balm that Kai 
Kaous had among his treasures, and he sent Gudurz in 
haste for it. But the Shah, fearing lest the might of 
Sohrab should be joined with the might of Rustum and 
should be turned against him, and remembering also 
Rustum’s former pride, refused the request that the mes¬ 
senger had brought. Then Rustum himself went to be- 


68 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


seech the king, but before he had come unto his presence, 
a messenger overtook him telling him that Sohrab had 
departed from this world. Then he lamented crying, “ I 
that am old have killed my son.” He made a great fire 
and flung into it his tent of many colors, his armor, and 
all his trappings of power, and he tore his flesh. Then he 
commanded that Sohrab’s body be swathed in rich bro¬ 
cade of gold, and he accompanied the bier to his home 
in Zamboulistan. When Zal beheld the host returning in 
sorrow, he questioned Rustum and was shown the youth 
who was but an infant in years, yet a hero in battle. 
Then they built a tomb like a horse’s hoof, and Rustum 
laid his son in a chamber of gold, and the house of Rus¬ 
tum was filled with a voice of sorrow. 

When the news reached Samengan, the king tore his 
vestments and Tahmineh bewailed the evil that had come 
upon them. When the garments and the horse of Sohrab 
were brought to her, she cut off the tail of the horse with 
Sohrab’s sword. And she set fire to the house of Sohrab 
and she gave the gold and jewels to the poor. After a 
year her spirit went forth after Sohrab, her son. 


QUESTIONS AND DISCUSSION 

ARNOLD’S USE OF THE PERSIAN HISTORY 

1. In what respect has Arnold changed the character of 
Sohrab? Rustum? Afrasiab? The events of their lives? 

2. Which reason for Rustum’s not knowing about his son 
seems to you the more interesting from a story point of view? 
As an identification? 

3. Which is better, the onyx or the sign of Rustum’s seal 
pricked on Sohrab’s arm? 

4. Why did Arnold probably omit the story of the quarrel 
between Rustum and Kai Kaous? 

5. Why is Arnold’s account of the combat more dramatic 
than that of the Shah Namehf Compare Shakespeare’s handling 
of the historical account of the battle in Act I of Macbeth. 

6. Why is Arnold’s ending of the story more artistic? 


“SOHRAB AND RUSTUM” 

1. What idea did Arnold wish to convey by beginning the 
poem with “and”? What is the significance of “but” in line 3? 

2. What atmosphere is created in the first lines? How does 
this introduction resemble Shakespeare’s Macbeth? What is the 
significance of the fog? Of the Oxus Stream? 

3. What impression do you get of Sohrab’s character in lines 
5-63? 

4. What is Peran-Wisa’s attitude toward Sohrab (11. 26-94)? 

5. What are some of the distinguishing marks of the various 
Tartar tribes (11. 106-135)? 

6. In what respect were the Persians different from the 
Tartars (U. 137-144)? 

7. Of what incident in the Iliad does the scene in Rustum’s 
tent remind you (11. 190-263)? 

8. By what agreement was Rustum prevailed upon to fight 
and how (11. 205-259)? 

9. Give the conversation between Sohrab and Rustum before 
the combat. How is this significant (11. 319-397)? 

10. Describe the combat (11. 397-516). 

11. How was Sohrab wounded? Why is this significant? 

69 


70 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


12. Describe the nature background of the scene. 

13. What is the central point of the tragedy? Its highest 
moment? 

14. Why should Sohrab be conscious of a feeling that the other 
was Rustum when Rustum had apparently no such intuition 
(11. 548-550)? 

15. Explain the new suspense created by the stages of recogni¬ 
tion between them (11. 527-591). 

16. Where does the responsibility of the tragedy lie (11. 708- 
715)? 

17. Is line 736 a ridiculous exaggeration, or is there * some 
accountable reason for it? 

18. What is the significance of Sohrab’s dying request? 

19. What is the meaning of the prophecy that Sohrab makes 
about Rustum’s end (11. 828-834)? 

20. Compare lines 857-859 and line 874 with the closing lines of 
Paradise Lost. Has Arnold measured up to his own standard of 
classic? 

21. What may be the symbolic significance of line 875? 


“SOHRAB AND RUSTUM” 

1. Compare the background in this poem to that of De 
Quincey’s Revolt of the Tartars. 

2. Have you an accurate picture of Persian life, or has Arnold 
left much to your imagination? 

3. Find striking examples of oriental exaggeration. 

4. Why may this poem be classified as a minor or literary 
epic? 

5. In what respects is it more like the great epics than Idylls 
of the King? 

6. What qualities has it that reminds one of Beowulf? Para¬ 
dise Lost? Iliad? 

7. (a) In what respects is Sohrab a great epic hero? Rustum? 
(6) What Christian saint does Sohrab slightly resemble? 

8. (a) What is an epic comparison? (6) In what respects is 
it more beautiful than a simile? (c) Which is the more beautiful 
poetically? ( d ) Analyze each of the epic comparisons of the 
poem, (e) Do these long figures of speech retard the progress 
of the story? 

9. From what source did Arnold derive his severe simplicity 
of style? 

10. What are the peculiar excellencies of Arnold’s blank verse? 

11. Why is the last scene deeper in pathos than the last scene of 
Dickens’s Tale of Two Cities, or Tennyson’s Enoch Arden, or 
many other sad endings? 


QUESTIONS AND DISCUSSION 71 


. “THE FORSAKEN MERMAN" 

1. What is gained by the whole story’s being told in parts 
by the hero and sufferer? 

2. What is the moral problem involved? Where else in 
mythology or literature has the same theme been treated? 

3. Why does the Merman urge the children to call? Is their 
love greater than Margaret’s? 

4. Was Margaret’s reason sufficient for giving up her loved 
ones? 

5. Does the poet sympathize with the hero or with Mar¬ 
garet? Where does your sympathy lie? 

6. Describe the Merman and his children on land. Is this 
part of the story convincing? Can you suggest any other way 
for them to see Margaret? 

7. Does the poem remind you of any pictures you have seen? 

8. What are all the poetic devices by which the descriptions 
of the sea are made effective? 

9. Are the repetitions or refrains effective? 

10. Is the irregular meter adapted to this particular narrative? 

11. Make a list of attractive alliterations or other devices of 
tone-color. 


“TRISTRAM AND ISEULT” 

Part I 

1. What feeling did Iseult of Brittany have toward Tristram? 

2. What is attractive about the setting in the first part of the 
scene? 

3. How is the beauty of the moonlight heightened at the close? 

4. What lines especially reveal Arnold’s love and perfect 
understanding of children? 

Part III 

5. Do you admire these children? If so, why? 

6. Describe the country. Does it seem to describe England 
or France? 

7. The Breton tale that Iseult told to the children was that 
of Merlin and Vivien. Is Merlin your idea of a hero to be de¬ 
scribed to children? 


“SHAKESPEARE” 

1. What is the meaning of “Thou smilest and art still”? 

2. Analyze the figure of speech used in lines 3-8. 

3. How do lines 9-11 sum up Shakespeare’s life? 


72 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


4. Why are the closing lines the highest tribute that Arnold 
could pay to Shakespeare? 

5. Summarize the first eight lines in one sentence. Summarize 
the last six lines. Then put together the two ideas in one sentence. 

6. What is wrong about the last line and how do you account 
for it? 

7. Is the verse form that of Petrarch or of Shakespeare? 


“AUSTERITY OF POETRY” 

1. What is the story of Giacopone di Todi’s bride? 

2. What application of the story does Arnold make in this 

sonnet? ’ 

3. Why may this sonnet be taken as a perfect self-revelation 
by Arnold? 


“THE STRAYED REVELLER” 

1. How has Arnold caught the spirit of the Greeks in this 
poem? 

2. What two themes are treated in the youth’s reply? 

3. Look up the whole story of the following: Ulysses, Tiresius, 
the Centaurs, Hera, Argo, Silenus, Circe. 

4. What is the keynote to the relation of gods and mortals? 
Do you get this same idea in the Iliad? 

5. What is the youth’s attitude to Ulysses? 

6. How does he describe Circe? Is this representation better 
than Milton’s in Comus? 

7. Is there any moral in this poem? 

8. What is the effect of the closing lines? 

9. Has Arnold worked in any of the thought of his age or is 
it simply Greek? 

10. This is a fragment only of a drama. Read the entire poem 
and tell whether much has been lost by its being cut down. 


“DOVER BEACH” 

1. Are the opening lines your general impression of the 
English channel? 

2. What are the sounds of the sea? What are the effects of 
these sounds? 

3. What was the cause of the eternal note of sadness to 
Sophocles? To Arnold? 

4. To whom is the poem addressed? 


QUESTIONS AND DISCUSSION 73 

5. In the closing lines does Arnold seem to have the same 
idea of war that Tennyson had? Compare Locksley Hall. 

6. Compare the mood of the poem with that of Keats’ 
sonnet On the Sea. 

7. Put the thought of the lyric into one sentence. 

8. What is the effect of the rhyme and rhythm? Why is the 
varying length of lines especially suited to the poet’s musings? 

9. Analyze the figure of speech in the next to the last stanza. 


“THE CHURCH OF BROU” 

1. How is the whole story of the princely pair sketched in the 
first stanza? 

2. Describe the surroundings of the tomb. 

3. What time does the poet suggest as the most beautiful 
for the pair to awaken? What later suggestion does he make? 
Which do you prefer and why? 

4. Analyze the description of the autumn night. 

5. Does this poem seem to have been written by one who was 
lacking in faith in religion? 

6. Does the poem immediately seem to be written in the heroic 
couplet or is the use of it free? 


“LINES WRITTEN IN KENSINGTON GARDENS” 

1. What is remarkable about being in this park in London? 

2. Why is the reference to Pan especially appropriate in the 
poem about Kensington Gardens? 

3. What striking contrast is at the basis of this poem? 

4. What is the message of nature to man? What prayer does 
the poet make in the last stanza? 

5. Is there something inconsistent in the closing lines? What 
kind of living does Arnold mean? 


“THE SCHOLAR-GIPSY” 

1. Divide the poem into three parts and explain the relation 
of these parts. Are the last two stanzas necessary to the thought 
of the poem? 

2. Why is the pastoral setting more pleasing in this poem than 
in Milton’s Lycidas? 

3. Describe the historical Scholar-Gipsy. 

4. What scenes of college and rural life does the Scholar- 
Gipsy seem to love to haunt? Is this choice indicative of Arnold’s 
own taste? 


74 ARNOLD’S POEMS 

5. What is the significance of the Scholar-Gipsy’s seeming to 
be still alive? 

6. What sad picture does Arnold draw of modern life.'’ Mow 
much of this part of the poem is personal? Compare Arnold s 
point of view with Tennyson’s. 

7. Has Arnold a solution to the problem or is this only a 

lament? 


“REQUIESCAT” 

1. How is the woman, celebrated in this poem, typical of the^ 
nineteenth century? Of Arnold’s own inner moods? 

2. What is the secret of the pathos of her life? 

3. Compare her spirit with Dante’s seeking peace and with 
Arnold’s. 

4. Are the short lyric lines appropriate for an elegy? What 
does the lightness and frailty of the verse seem to suggest? 


“KAISER DEAD” 

1. Compare this poem with Geist’s Grave by Arnold. Which 
is the more sincere? Which is the more human? 

2. Does the meter suit the theme or is it too tripping? 

3. Compare the spirit of the poem with Burns’s poem Poor 
Mailie’s Elegy. 

4. Since Arnold is probably our greatest writer of elegiac 
verse, is it appropriate that he should write twice on favorite 
dogs? 

5. What is especially attractive about Arnold’s treatment of 
animals? 

6. What side of Arnold does this poem reveal that no other 
poem in this volume gives any hint of? 


ENCYCLOPEDIC REFERENCE 


The pronunciations and accents here given are the correct ones. 


Occasionally, however, the poet 

meter. 

Ader-baijan (ad'-er-ba-i-yan'), 
northwestern province of 
Persia. 

ASgean (e-ge'-an), part of the 
Mediterranean Sea between 
Greece and Asia Minor. 

Afghans (af'-ghans), inhab¬ 
itants of Afghanistan, a 
country of Central Asia, east 
of Persia. 

Afrasiab (af-ra'-si-yab), king 
of the Tartars. 

Alcmena (alk-me'-ne), daughter 
of the king of Mycenae. 

Aralian estuaries (a-ral'-i-an), 
lower parts of the Aral Sea 
in Central Asia. 

Argo (ar'-go), ship on which 
Jason set sail in search of the 
golden fleece. 

Asopus (a-s5'-pus), river god. I 

Attruck (a'-truk), river in the 
northwestern part of Persia 
flowing into the Caspian Sea. 

Bab-lock-hithe, village four 
miles southwest of Oxford. 

Bagley Wood, southwest of Ox¬ 
ford. 

Bahrein (ba-ran), one of the 
Aral Islands in the Persian 
gulf, made famous by its 
pearl fisheries. 

Berkshire, shire south of Ox¬ 
ford. 


has shifted accent on account of 

Bokhara (bo-ka'-ra), district of 
Central Asia, south of Turk- 
istan and bordered by the 
Oxus River. 

Brittany or Breton, province 
of France consisting of the 
northwest peninsula. 

Cabool (ka'-bool), important 
commercial city of northern 
Afghanistan. 

Casbin (kaz-ben'), ancient city 
in northern Persia. 

Caspian (kas'-pi-an), inland 
sea between Europe and 
Asia. 

Caucasus (caw'-ca-sus), range 
of mountains that separate 
Afghanistan and Turkistan. 

Chian (ki'-an), Chios, an island 
in the iEgean noted for its 
wine. 

Chorasmia (kS-ras'-mi-a), early 
name of the desert country 
Kharasm (ka-razm) in the 
valley of the Oxus. 

Christ-Church, large and fash¬ 
ionable college of Oxford. 

Circe (sir'-se), Greek sorceress 
who, having killed her hus¬ 
band, King of Colchis, had 
been put on the Isle of 
Aeaea on the coast of Italy. 
Here she was found by Ulys¬ 
ses and his companions. 


75 




76 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


His men were changed into 
swine, but he was saved by- 
Mercury. 

Dido (di'-do), Queen of Carth¬ 
age, deserted by her lover, 
iEneas. 

Elburz (el-boorz'), mountain 
range on the northern border 
of Persia. 

Feraburz (fer'-a-burz), second 
in command of the Persians. 

Ferghana (fer-ga'-na), province 
in the eastern part of Turk- 
istan. 

Ferood (fe-rood), Persian chief. 

Fyfield (fi-field), village six 
miles southwest of Oxford 
at which was held annually 
the Maypole dance. 

Gadston Bridge, two miles up 
the Thames from Oxford. 

Glanvil, Joseph Glanvill, 1636- 
1680, an English clergyman, 
the author of “Vanity of 
Dogmatizing,” in which is 
told the story of a scholar 
leaving Oxford to join the 
gipsies. 

Gudurz (goo'-durz), aged coun¬ 
selor of the Persians. 

Hades (ha'-dez), in Greek 
mythology, the dwelling 
place of the souls of the de¬ 
parted. 

Haman (ha'-man), leader of 
the Tartars, second in com¬ 
mand to Peran-Wisa (pe'~ 
ran-we'-sa). 

Helmund (hSl'-mund), river of 
Afghanistan flowing south¬ 
west through Seistan into 
Lake Hamun. 


Hera (he'-ra), Greek name for 
Juno, wife of Jupiter. 

Himalayan (hi-ma'-la-yan), 
mountains of India. 

Hinksey, village south of Ox¬ 
ford. 

Hurst, Cumner Hurst, hill few a 
miles southwest of Oxford. 

Hydaspes (hl-das'-pez), river 
of northwestern India, and 
tributary of the Indus. 

Hyphasis (hif'-a-sis), river of 
northwestern India, and trib¬ 
utary of the Indus. 

Iacchus (Jac'-chus), poetic spell¬ 
ing of Bacchus, the Greek 
God of wine. 

Iberians (I-ber'-i-ans), inhabit¬ 
ants of Spain and Portugal. 

Ilyats (il'-y-ats), plural of Ili, 
a Persian name for any wan¬ 
dering tribe. 

Iran (e-ran'), the Persian Em¬ 
pire. 

Iseult (e-soolt'). 

Jemshid (jem-shid'), fourth 
king of the earliest Persian 
dynasty. He was supposed 
to have ruled 700 years and 
to have founded Persepolis 
(per-sep'-o-lis). 

Juxartes (jak-sar'-tez), another 
name for the river Syr Daria 
(ser dar-ya), which flows 
from the Pamere plateau 
into the Aral Sea. 

Kai Khosroo (kl kos-roo'), king 
of Persia in the sixth century 
b.c. thought, by historians, 
to be Cyrus the Great. 

Kalmuks (kal'-muks), Mon¬ 
golian nomads living in 
western Siberia. 

Kura-Kul (ka'-ra-kool), dis- 





ENCYCLOPEDIC REFERENCE 77 


trict in the southern part .of 
Central Asia. 

Khiva (ke'-va), district in the 
valley of the lower Oxus 
River. 

Khorassan (kS'-ra-san'), liter¬ 
ally the land of the sun, a 
desert province in north¬ 
eastern Persia. 

Kipchak (kip'-chak), province 
north of Khiva on the Oxus. 

Kirghizzes (kir-ghez'-z), Mon¬ 
golian Tartar tribe living in 
Pamere (pa-mer') or northern 
Turkistan. 

Koords (koords), semi-inde¬ 
pendent people of western 
Persia. 

Kussacks (kus'-sacks), literally 
“riders” that inhabit the 
Steppes of southern Russia 
and southwestern Siberia. 

Lapithae (lap'-i-the), mythical 
race of Thessaly, Greece, who 
contested with the Centaurs. 

Marc or Mark , King of Corn¬ 
wall, husband of Iseult of 
Ireland. 

Midland Waters, another name 
for the Mediterranean Sea. 

Moorghab (moor-gaub'), river 
rising in eastern Persia and 
flowing northwest into the 
deserts of Turkistan. 

Orgunje (oor-ghenz), about 
seventy miles below Khiva 
(ke'-va). 

Oxus (ox'-us), Greek name for 
the great river Amu Daria 
(a-mo dar-ya) that flows 
into the Aral Sea. 

Pamere (pa-mer'), plateau of 
the Indian Caucausus from 


which the Oxus and the 
Juxartes flow. 

Pan (pan), Greek god wor¬ 
shipped in Arcadia, Greece. 
He was the herdsman’s god 
and the god of music, dance, 
and song. His sanctuaries 
were in the mountains. 

Pelion (pe'-li-on), mountain of 
Greece. 

Peran-Wisa (pe'-ran we-'sa), 
Turanian chief and the com¬ 
mander of King Afrasiab’s 
army of various Tartar 
tribes. 

Persepolis (per-sep'-5-lis), an¬ 
cient capital of Persia. 

Potsdam, town sixteen miles 
from Berlin that formerly 
was the summer residence 
of the Emperor of Ger¬ 
many. 

Rustum (roos-tem'). 

Samarcand (sam '-ar-kant'), 

city of Turkistan east of 
Bokhara. 

Scythia (sith'-e-a), region north 
of the River Danube and the 
Black and Caspian Seas. 

Seistan (se-is-tan, ses'tan), 
province in southwestern 
Afghanistan, bordering on 
Persia. On an island in the 
lake of Seistan is a fort called 
Fort Rustum. 

Silenus (sl-le'-nus), in Greek 
mythology a drunken at¬ 
tendant of Bacchus, leader 
of the satyrs. 

Sir (ser), river Syr Daria or 
Juxartes (jak-sar'-tez) which 
flows from the Pamere (pa- 
mer') plateau into the Aral 
Sea. 

Sohrab (soh'-rab). 



78 


ARNOLD’S POEMS 


Sophocles (sof'-o-klez), Greek 
dramatist. 

Syrtes (sir'-tez), gulf of Sidra 
on the northern coast of 
Africa. 

Tartars (tar'-tars), Nomadic 
tribes of Central Asia or 
southern Russia. Here the 
reference is to “Black Tar¬ 
tars’’ or those particular 
tribes about the Aral Sea 
who fought under King 
Afrasiab. 

Tejend (te-dzend'), river in 
Turkistan. 

Thames (temz), largest river 
of England on which London 
is situated. 

Thebes (thebz), city of ancient 
Greece. 

Theseus (the'-soos), great hero 
of Attic legend. The son of 
Poseidon (po-si'-don), whose 
greatest adventure was the 
slaying of the minotaur of 
Greece by the help of Ari¬ 
adne. 

Thessaly (thgs'-sa-ly), north¬ 
eastern district of ancient 
Greece noted for pastoral 
poetry, here applied to Bag- 
ley Wood of England. 

Tiresias (ti-re'-shi-as), blind 
Theban prophet. Zeus gave 
him long life and infallible 
power of prophecy. 

Toorkmuns (tbork'-muns), a 
branch of the Tartars living 
in Central Asia, south of 
Khiva (ke'-va). 

Troy or Ilium, ancient city in 


the northwestern part of Asia 
Minor, the scene of Homer’s 
Iliad. 

Tukas (tuk'-as), Tartar tribe 
living in the province of 
Ader-baijan (ad'-er-ba-i- 
yan') in northwestern Persia. 

Turanian (tu-ran'-i-ans), the 
Greek name for the Scyth¬ 
ians. They occupied the 
bank of the Oxus River op¬ 
posite to the Persian Em¬ 
pire. 

Tyntagel (tin-taj'-el), castle of 
King Mark in Cornwall, the 
supposed birthplace of King 
Arthur. 

Tyrian (tir'-i-ans), inhabitants 
of Tyre, the largest city of 
Ancient Phoenicia on the 
Mediterranean Sea. 

Ulysses (u-lis'-sez), King of 
Ithaca, one of the Greek 
leaders in the war against 
Troy. His wanderings from 
Troy back home are told in 
Homer’s Odyssey. 

Wynchwood, forest ten miles 
northwest of Oxford. 

Zal (zal), father of Rustum, was 
born with white hair. White 
being a color antagonistic 
to the sun, he was abandoned 
on a mountain. He was 
rescued by a griffin, who 
cared for him and later 
restored him to his father. 

Zirah (zir'-rah), lake in north¬ 
eastern Seistan, now dry. 
















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